Haberdasheries of Falsehoods
by galleena
Summary: Jo, Adam and the rest of the team unravel a fabric of lies to find out why half a million pounds are sitting in two ladies' bank accounts and what they intend to do with the money...Finally complete
1. Part 1

**Part One**

**"I'll be over there if you need me"**

0-0-0

"I've sent my report in with Zaf, Adam." Jo said over the phone. "Do you have any plans for this evening? A few of us are going to the George if you want to join us."

"No thanks Jo, Wes's been asking all week when I'll bring him to the new playground. I said we'd go tonight."

"Fair enough. See you in the morning then."

0-0-0

The playground was packed with kids clambering up multicoloured climbing frames, slithering down the metal slides and generally making lots of noise. Wes looked eagerly up at his dad.

"I'll be over there is you need me," Adam said.

Wes joined the chaotic mob of children, disappearing from sight for several seconds and then reappearing at the top of the slide. He waved enthusiastically at Adam and slid down at great speed, landing in a heap on the tarmac. Adam was standing in an instant but Wes was quicker. He bounded to his feet, grinned over at his dad and gave a reassuring wave to show he was fine. He then proceeded to monkey up the frame a second time and do the same again.

Adam sat down. He felt his heart beat return to normal slowly.

"First time here?"

A woman sitting beside him on the bench was smiling kindly at him.

"Yes," Adam replied. The woman nodded understandingly.

"I wouldn't worry," she said. "They all do that the first time. Sean did too."

Here she gestured at a surly looking curly-haired boy who was swinging on the monkey bars.

"He nearly gave me a heart attack when he came off at the end. I was sure he'd broken something."

Adam looked back at the boy. He was probably seven or eight. The woman beside him didn't look old enough to be his mother.

"Is he yours?" he asked, more to satisfy curiosity than anything else.

"He's my nephew," the woman replied distractedly. "I live with his mother."

Sean was refusing to let another boy have a go on the bars. The boy kicked Sean and Sean lashed out in response. The woman leapt to her feet.

"Excuse me," she said to Adam, and jogged over to break up the fight. The other boy's mother was approaching the boys as well, looking seriously displeased. She said something to the first woman who said something back and then they both said something to their respective kids and something to each other again. A small row broke out which culminated in the other woman leaving the park with her child in tow and Sean's aunt returning to her seat.

"Racist cow," she muttered as she settled back into her seat. "I've had a run in with her before. Has a serious problem with Irish people."

"Oh, are you Irish?" Adam asked. She looked at him to see if he was being serious.

"Does the accent not give it away?"

"Your accent isn't strong, I couldn't tell." That was a lie. He could tell. But it wasn't strong, that much was true. She also looked distinctly familiar. Was she a contact?

"I'm Peter, by the way. Peter Ellis." he said, offering her his hand. She shook it.

"May Sullivan."

The name didn't ring any bells. Adam gestured towards Sean.

"And that's Sean Sullivan." he said.

"Yes," she said lightly. "McGuire-Sullivan"

McGuire, McGuire…The name struck a note of recognition. He suddenly remembered why. May was Gabrielle McGuire's partner, and one half of the couple Jo and Malcolm were keeping an eye on. Which would explain why she looked so familiar.

"You been here often since it opened?" He asked casually, never a man to let an opportunity pass.

"Everyday, more or less. Elle, that's Sean's mum, likes some peace when she comes in from work so we've been coming here for the last couple of weeks. Just an hour or two when he has his homework done. Sean loves it." Here she looked across at the sullen boy and sighed softly. "Even if he doesn't look like he does."

"Wes seems to like it too" Adam said. Wes was swinging down a fireman's pole as he spoke. A small girl stood at the bottom of the pole, waiting for him to land. They chattered briefly and then raced over to the climbing frame together. May and Adam watched them quietly for a moment.

"Back home, this playground probably wouldn't have lasted the weekend," May said pensively.

Adam looked at her. "Why not?"

"Place would have been torched," she said. "Kind of sad, don't you think."

Adam nodded. "Probably would have happened where I grew up too. If we'd had a playground."

"Where are you from?"

"Liverpool. You?"

"Lucan. It's near Dublin."

"I know" he said.

May looked surprised. "You do?"

"Yeah, I was there once. Nice place. Good pub on the corner. What's it called?"

"O'Shaughlins?"

Adam nodded. Pubs were always a good bet in an Irish town. "That could have been it. I was quite drunk. Stag night you know."

"I used to work there. When I was still in school. How long ago was the stag?"

She looked about twenty-two. "A few years ago now," he said. "Sorry if I gave you a hard time."

May laughed. "You wouldn't have been the first" she said. Then she stood up to leave.

"It's getting dark," she commented, somewhat unnecessarily. "Sean and I'd better go. Come on Sean!" This she shouted across the park. Sean scowled heavier than before, if that was possible, and plodded over to where May was standing with his coat.

"It was nice talking to you," Adam said to her, as Sean put his arms into his coat sleeves.

"You too," May said, and smiled. "Will you be here again tomorrow?"

"Yes, hopefully. You?"

"All things well and good, yes, we will," May smiled again before taking Sean's hand and leading him from the park.

Adam waited until May's tailcoats had whipped out of sight before he took out his phone and called Jo.

"Adam, is everything all right?"

"Jo, you'll never guess who I just ran into…"

0-0-0

"I can't believe it," Jo exclaimed the next morning when Adam stepped into the meeting room. She was on video call. "I wring my neck trying to get in with Gabrielle, and _you_ casually open a line with her girlfriend in a playground. It's so typical!"

Harry stepped through doorway just after Adam.

"Typical? I'd rather call it astounding good luck. There's been a transfer of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds to another new bank account, this one in May Sullivan's name. Again, the money was paid in small sums from a multitude of different ghost companies, making it virtually untraceable. Malcolm, have you fixed the problem of Gabrielle's hairdryers rendering our bugs useless?"

Malcolm cleared his throat uneasily. "No, but we've tapped the land-line so we should be able to hear what's going on over the phone's at least."

"So, we still have no lead on what they're planning to do with the money, but as the amount in their accounts now totals roughly half a million pounds we can assume it's big and that they'll move soon," said Adam. "Jo?"

"I haven't had much luck getting through to Gabrielle. She's stand-offish and sarcastic."

"So Adam's encounter may be the opportunity we've been waiting for to find out what the hell Gabrielle and May are up to. Jo, for the moment you stick with Gabrielle. Your first appointment is in half an hour I believe?"

Jo nodded bitterly.

"You'd better get going. Traffic's a nightmare on that side of the city."

Jo signed off.

"Adam, May works in a café near where they live, which is conveniently near where you live. Malcolm will fill you in on your legend. You may need to rework your back story a bit, it was originally Tom's."

"Isn't re-using a legend a bit risky?" Ruth asked. "What if somebody recognises it or something?"

"We do it all the time. A different name, a different face, nobody will know, it's amazing how obtuse people can be." Harry replied. "Especially the Irish."

Zaf, Adam and Ruth opened their mouths in unison to speak.

"Sorry," Harry said in a quiet apologetic tone before they could start. "You know I didn't mean that."

0-0-0

"…Phone, button camera, expensive wallet with lots of money, we need that back later by the way, good tailored suit, nice coat, fountain pen, yes, it's really a pen, business cards with your office and mobile numbers on them and that's about it. Peter Ellis, your legend, is a hotshot investment banker; you're up to speed on quantitative analysis I take it? Anything else you can think of?" Malcolm looked quizzically at Colin. "A laptop maybe? Is Peter the type to take a working break?"

"No, I don't think so. A workaholic Peter wouldn't bring his kid to the park would he? No, our Peter's a hard-working yet well-balanced and devoted parent. Nice guy in my opinion."

"Nearly finished?" Adam asked. "Only my coffee break starts in fifteen minutes."

Malcolm inhaled sharply. "We've forgotten the watch," he said. "Rolex, do you think?"

"There's no time" Adam replied. "If she asks I'll tell her it's in for repairs or something. See you later."

0-0-0

"Yes, I'd like a large black coffee please," Adam told the busty waitress at the till. "And I'll have it here." It cost three pounds ten pence, daylight robbery thought Adam. He paid with a fifty pound note, it being the smallest note he had in his wallet.

There was no sign of May around. He took a seat and a minute or so later a waiter brought his coffee over. Adam sipped it, and picked up a newspaper which someone had left on the table by his. He glanced through the headlines and skimmed through the articles, not really paying any attention to what they said. He sipped his coffee again and looked around for May, but there was still no sign. He stayed in the café until his coffee was almost cold. Maybe she wasn't working?

His phone rang. It was Malcolm. Adam stood to leave. He left a generous tip and thanked the waitress on his way out. Mentally, he cursed his fruitless morning. It hadn't even been nice coffee.

Once outside he answered Malcolm's call. "What happened? Where is she?"

"It seems she went to Gabrielle's hairdressing saloon. Jo let us know as soon as she could."

"What's she doing there?"

"Err, getting her hair cut."

"And how come we didn't know about this before now?" Adam asked, irritation thinly veiled in his voice..

"It was a last minute arrangement. She picked her nephew up from school, he's sick, and went to Gabrielle's with him. According to Jo one of the hairdressers insisted that she stay and have her hair trimmed. That's it. Oh, we've turned a corner of your apartment into a banker's office. Hope you don't mind."

Adam sighed. "Not really. I'm coming back to the Grid. Have one of the team outside the hairdresser's follow the subject when she leaves will you? I want to know where she's going."

0-0-0

"Now sweetheart, you look much neater."

Deborah, the hairdresser, had cut a few inches off May's hair and given her layers to make it lighter but as far as Jo could tell there was no real difference to the original style. However, May smiled and thanked Deborah before offering her some money which she wouldn't take. May then walked over to Gabrielle, who was on the phone, and waited for her to finish. Gabrielle ignored her and May hung around awkwardly until Gabrielle finally hung up.

"Couldn't you tell I was busy!" she snapped. May blinked, taken aback.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I wanted to tell you I was going."

"Fine. Bye. Thank you for dropping Sean over."

Still, May hesitated. "See you later," she said eventually.

Gabrielle was already dialling another number. She glanced up at May, nodded, and then the person on the other end of the line picked up. May lingered in the doorframe a moment longer before slowly leaving the saloon.

"She's a pretty girl, isn't she?"

Deborah stood beside Jo, wiping her hands on a towel. Jo jumped; she'd been so absorbed watching May and Gabrielle that she hadn't noticed Deborah walk up beside her until she spoke. Deborah apparently took her jump as a sign of guilt.

"Don't think I didn't notice you watching her as I cut her hair," she said. "She's a sweet kid. And she is pretty, in an awkward sort of way. I'd advise you not to go there though. Gabrielle is not the forgiving type."

Jo blushed, "I wasn't watching her."

Deborah raised a sceptical eyebrow. Jo continued.

"Well, I was watching her, but only to see how you cut her hair. Not like you said. I mean, I have a boyfriend."

Deborah tilted her head to the side. "Fair enough," she said, totally unconvinced, and walked away.

As soon as she was gone, Jo sent a brief text to the Grid.

**Need a bf to walk me home after work.**

About 30 seconds later she got a text back from Zaf.

**Id luv 2, bt im washing my hair. Colin wud bt his mum sed hes grounded & Malcolm in luv with www. Will Harry do?**

Jo exhaled quietly.

**Don't be a dick Zaf, find me someone.**

Two minutes later she got another message from him.

**Alf aka Bob King will b dere. U no Bob 2 see?**

Yes, she did. He was a squishy bloke, late twenties, middling height and he had great eyes, though no personality to speak of. They'd met on an op some weeks previously.

**Thanks Zaf, **she wrote back, before deleting all their correspondence from her phone.

0-0-0

"She's in the park Adam," Ruth called over to Adam.

"Are you sure it's her?"

"You tell me."

Adam hastily swallowed the bite of sandwich he was chewing on and strode over to Ruth's desk. It was May alright. She was sitting by the playground.

"I need a lift," he said as grabbed his coat and wallet.

"I'll take you." Zaf volunteered immediately.

Adam was already half-way to the pods when Zaf called after him.

"Adam, can I have that sandwich you're leaving on your desk?"

Ruth thumped him with a stack of files.

"Move!" she said. Zaf jumped up, laughing, and grabbed his cars keys.

"Come on Adam," he said. "Let's go play on the swings."

0-0-0

* * *

**AN: This is my first fiction in about a year. Encouragement, comments and suggestions are very welcome. I already have the second part written and I may actually post the entire story as a one-shot at some point in the future, but I'd like to get some feedback on each part first. Stuff like this works, that doesn't and you said "said" too often (31 times in this chapter, 33 if you count the AN!) is great. In fact, anything at all is great.**

**So please review. Or at the very least, try part even two if you didn't like part one very much.**

**Thanks, Galleena.**


	2. Part 2

**Part Two**

**A tingling spy sense as the web of lies thickens,**

**A play **

**&**

**A life revelation, o****r something.**

0-0-0

Adam saw her across the park. She was wearing a vivid red scarf that she hadn't been wearing the previous day and the wind was playing havoc with her new hair cut. Adam walked down the path, made to walk past her and then took a step back. "May, isn't it?" he said, smiling lightly.

May jumped, startled. She looked closely at Adam for a moment before recognising him. "Oh hi," she said. "Yes, it's May."

She was obviously struggling to remember his name.

"I'm Peter. Peter Ellis. Me and Wes were at the playground yesterday."

"Oh yes of course." She nodded, flustered. "Sorry."

She stared past Adam to the kids in the playground. Concerned, he sat down beside her.

"I'm sorry. It may be presumptuous of me to ask this, but are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she said.

Tears welled in her eyes and she wiped them away fiercely, embarrassed by them.

Adam didn't move. This could all go horribly wrong right now, he realised. If he pushed too hard. So he said nothing. He looked at her, then looked at the dry leaves underfoot on the path, and then looked back at her.

"I'm fine," she repeated, but with less resolution. Adam gave a small nod, but still didn't say anything. He looked at the playground and then once again back at May.

"I'm on my lunch break," he said. "Have you eaten?"

She shook her head.

"Would you like to get some lunch with me? I mean…" he let his voice trail off. "Not, like, on a date. Just lunch."

"I don't know if I should," she said levelly. "I don't really know you."

"We could go to the sandwich bar around the corner," he suggested. It had a casual, open atmosphere. Big windows, high stools and it was perfect for informal lunch.

She thought about it.

"Ok," she said. "But I need to make a quick phone call."

She called Gabrielle, and left a message to say that she was going to the Sandwich Bar for lunch.

"Was that Sean's mum? Will she be joining us?" Adam asked.

"Probably not," May said darkly. "I was just letting her know where I was going."

In case you try anything Adam added in his head.

"Flatmate trouble?" he asked sympathetically.

"You could say that."

0-0-0

"Any news?" Zaf asked Ruth when he arrived back at the Grid.

"No, but an agent is following them. Adam's bringing her to the sandwich bar."

"Which one?"

"_The_ Sandwich Bar."

"Can I go too? I'm starving."

"You can have these if you like," Colin said glumly, throwing his sandwiches to Zaf as he passed. "Liver pate, I can't stand it. Mum made them, dropped them over on her way to work this morning."

0-0-0

"What'll you have?" Adam asked May. She read the menus behind the counter carefully.

"What are you having?" she asked.

"A Chicken Caesar salad baguette. It's tasty, but it makes your breath smell a bit."

He said this jokingly. She smiled. That was progress.

"The Chicken Pesto wrap is good too," he continued. "And… the Cheese and Bacon bagel."

"I think I'll have the wrap," May decided. "It sounds healthiest."

Adam ordered and insisted on paying. He wouldn't hear of letting her pay for her own, saying he earned far too much money. May put up a fight but eventually she gave in, exasperated yet smiling. He paid with a one-hundred pound note to prove his point.

"Would you like to sit down?" he asked. "I'll bring it over."

May took a stool by the window. Adam carried the tray over and sat beside her. May lifted her sandwich off the tray and unwrapped it. Adam did the same, depositing the empty tray onto the stool beside him.

"So, what do you get paid far too much money for doing then?" she asked.

"I'm an illegal arms trafficker," Adam said in a deadpan voice.

"Yeah, right," she scorned, but not without amusement.

"No, but you have to admit it would be a great conversation starter. Much better than quantitative analyst any day."

"That doesn't sound too bad."

"I like the work, but once I mention the quantitative bit most people's eyes glaze over. Which is why I tend to tell people that I'm an arms trafficker or a trapeze artist or J.K Rowling's bodyguard when they ask what I do. Sometimes I tell them I'm an investment banker, which isn't strictly true. But it still sounds better than an analyst."

Adam bit deeply into his baguette and chewed it. "What do you do?" he asked, with his mouth full. She didn't catch what he said. He swallowed, coughed and apologised. "Sorry. I was trying to ask what you do."

"I'm a barista."

"A barrister?" Adam said, deliberately mishearing. "Any good cases lately?"

"No," she corrected him. "I'm a _barista._"

Adam frowned, "What's that?"

"I work in a coffee shop."

"Oh."

May ate some wrap.

"Do you enjoy it?" Adam asked.

"Not really. My colleagues aren't the nicest and the work is hardly inspiring. Unless you're really into coffee."

"Why don't you pack it in then, if you don't like it?"

Her eyebrows twitched. "We don't all earn enough to pay for lunch with a hundred pound bill. I barely make that in a week."

Obviously the hundred and fifty thousand pounds in her bank account weren't for groceries then.

"What would you prefer to do?" Adam asked. May considered him carefully before answering.

"If reality weren't an issue I'd be a playwright."

"Really? Why's that?"

"I'd enjoy it. I wrote plays for our Drama Society in college and really liked it. Other people liked them too. So I dropped out of Business Management, which I hated anyway, and started writing full-time. Needless to say it went pear-shaped."

"How?"

"They were rubbish. Companies wouldn't put them on. They said my plays were trite, contrived and that they'd been done before and better. They said my lack of expertise was obvious and that I'd have to go to college and learn to write before I'd be any good. But I couldn't afford to go back to college. Still can't."

She said all this matter-of-factly. So the money wasn't for her education either, not that he thought it was. Then she added, wretchedly, "I'm not good enough to get into college anyway."

He frowned. "I'm sure it wasn't true," he said. "What they said about your plays."

May smiled wryly, "It was, unfortunately."

He'd finished his sandwich. "Coffee?" he asked. May nodded.

"Tea please." She rummaged for her purse but Adam waved her away again.

"What about this college thing then?" he asked, as he set the paper cup of tea in front of her.

"What about it?"

"Are you going to apply?"

"No," she looked at him as though she had doubts about his sanity. "It's too late now."

"No it isn't. It's only early October, applications don't close until January. Where would you apply?"

May blinked. "Anywhere really. But I meant it's too late for me. In the unlikely event that I get in, where would I get the money to pay for tuition and accommodation? No, I had my chance at university life and I blew it. My life is here in London now. I have Elle, I have Sean and I have a job."

"So you say. But you hate the job! You should apply to college and hang the expense! I lived on pita bread and ketchup for most of my student life, but I'm doing all right out of it now aren't I? Leaving Elle and Sean is trickier, but if they really love you then they'll understand. Besides, who said you can't go to college in London?"

May was sitting very still. Adam watched her with bated breath, wondering if he had gone too far. It suddenly struck him that he may have just blown himself out of the water. If _they_ really love you. Bugger. He wasn't meant to know about all that. He wondered if she'd noticed but then she opened her mouth to speak.

"I still wouldn't get in," she said.

Adam exhaled in relief. "I can help you there if you like. I'm good at applications. Do you have a copy of your CV?"

"I don't have a CV."

"References?"

"I don't have those either."

"Okay, so it's tricky, but not impossible. You worked in a pub right?"

"Yes, for about eight months. The manager probably won't remember me."

"That's not a problem because you write the reference for him and he just signs it."

"She."

"She just signs it then. What about your drama group, any chance of a reference there?"

"Possibly… Would I write that too?"

"No, probably better to get somebody else to do the second one or they'll look the same. It doesn't have to be either the Drama group or the pub though; you can get anybody you've worked for or known on a semi-professional basis to write a reference for you. Then you need a personal statement, that's just saying who you are and why you want to study in university and what your talents are and stuff like that."

May toyed with her cup. "You make it sound so easy," she observed.

"I used to do it in college to finance my ketchup," Adam grinned. "I was the best. Got loads of people their preferred college course. My mates used to say I should be in career guidance, but I told them there's more money in quantitative analysis. Anyway, do you have a computer?"

May shook her head.

"You can use my laptop if you like. Will you be at the playground later?"

"Sean's sick. So no, not today."

Adam had forgotten that. Then again, technically he didn't know it. "Can _you_ come anyway? Wes and I will be heading down at about five-ish. I'll bring the laptop and if you don't turn up, I'll understand."

She'd be there. He knew it.

She nodded. Adam looked at his wrist to check the time.

"Damn, no watch," he said. "Do you have the time?"

May looked at her own watch,

"It's nearly two."

Adam stood quickly. "I'm going to be late, I'd better go. Listen, it's been lovely meeting you again and hopefully I'll see you later at the playground."

"Yes, thanks for lunch."

He swept his empty cup and their sandwich wrappers onto the tray and threw them in a nearby bin. May finished her tea and stood to leave.

"Which way are you walking?" she asked.

"To Cable Street, Trimit, Calderisi & Partners Limited."

"That's close to my apartment," she said. "I'll walk with you."

As they neared May's complex Adam had an idea. "May, do you keep a copies of your plays?" he asked.

"Yes, I have a few the companies sent back to me. Why?"

"Could I read one?"

May looked doubtful. "They aren't very good," she said.

Adam shrugged, "I don't believe that," he said. "They were good enough that you dropped out of college, they must be readable enough."

They continued along the footpath together until May stopped outside her block of apartments. "Ok," she said. "Wait here and I'll bring one down to you."

She arrived back down five minutes later with a lightly bound script.

"Great! Thanks," Adam said, taking the script with care.

"You can keep it," May replied. "I tore out the derogatory notes at the back but feel free to add your own."

Adam smiled warmly. "See you later?" he asked.

May nodded. "See you," she said, and closed the door between them.

0-0-0

"Gabrielle, this hairdryer isn't working," Jo brandished a broken hairdryer at her boss, taking advantage of Deborah's lunch break to speak to Gabrielle more-or-less alone. Gabrielle was colouring a client's hair a naff shade of blonde.

"There's more in the cupboard at the back," she said, without turning around.

So much for that, Jo thought grimly as she went to the back of the shop. She opened the cupboard and took out another hairdryer. The fuse-box was also in the back of the cupboard and in a burst of inspiration she knocked off power to the sockets then went back to try the new hairdryer.

"Gabrielle, this one isn't working either," she said, consciously aware of how pathetic she sounded.

Gabrielle blew out her lips in annoyance. "Excuse me a moment," she said to her customer, and turned to Jo. "Did you check the other socket?"

"Yes, it isn't working in either of them."

"Then it's probably a tripped switch," Gabrielle said, as though speaking to a dim two year old. "In the same cupboard as the hairdryers. If one is down, flip it back up."

How May could put up with her she didn't know, Jo mused as she walked back to the cupboard. "Is it the grey box with the switches?" she asked, her voice slightly muffled by the cupboard.

"Yes poppet. That might be why they call it a switch-board."

They don't call it a switch board, Jo thought wryly as she flipped the switch back and withdrew from the cupboard. She 'accidentally' walloped her head on the way out, truth be a lot harder than she intended to. She yelped in pain, rubbed her scalp where she had hit it and was surprised to see a smear of blood on her hand. Gabrielle and both customers spun to look at her. Jo's customer dropped her magazine and rushed to assist.

"I've done first aid," she said. "Let me look."

Gabrielle and the Peroxide lady came over too.

"You should sit down," Gabrielle said seriously, all traces of sarcasm suddenly dropped from her voice. "Do you feel dizzy?"

Jo shook her head, but that did make her feel dizzy and she grabbed onto her customer's arm to steady herself. Peroxide lady pulled over a chair and Jo gratefully sat down on it. Gabrielle fetched their first aid box from reception. In the meantime Jo's customer examined her head. The cut was on her hair-line and quite shallow but a sizable bump was rising on her forehead. "Do you have ice?" the customer asked Gabrielle. She didn't.

"There's a shop around the corner," Peroxide lady volunteered. "I could go buy peas or something."

Jo had just thought how funny Peroxide lady would look buying peas with her hair basically wrapped in tinfoil when Deborah arrived back in the saloon. "What happened here?" she asked incredulously.

"Joss banged her head tripping a switch," Gabrielle said. "I was about to call you and say bring something frozen back, but I'll get it. You dry Martina's hair will you? Oona, if you wouldn't mind taking a seat, I'll be back in two minutes."

Martina, Jo's customer, finished swabbing Jo's cut and stuck a plaster on it.

"Thanks," Jo said. Martina smiled and said it was nothing before sitting down again. Peroxide lady, Oona, sat back in her own seat and picked up the magazine she had been reading before the commotion.

Deborah walked down the shop and dropped her bag beside Jo.

"Are you ok?" she asked in a quiet voice, concern showing in the many lines on her face. "What actually happened?"

"I'm fine, it was silly of me. I banged my head when I was backing out of the cupboard."

Deborah's forehead wrinkled. "You banged the front of your head backing out of a cupboard?"

Jo's blood froze. She hoped it didn't show on her face.

"No, I was sort of turning…" She mimed banging her head into the side of the cupboard, using her hand as the cupboard door. Deborah nodded.

"You'd want to be more careful next time."

Jo heaved an inward sigh of relief. "I'll try," she said, smiling weakly. Deborah nodded again, and went to dry Martina's hair. A short while later Gabrielle arrived back in the shop carrying a packet of frozen chips.

"Best I could do," she said. "Apparently there's no demand for peas these days."

"You'll need to wrap that in paper or cloth or something," Martina informed her helpfully. Gabrielle wrapped the chips in toilet paper before pressing them to Jo's face.

"How are you feeling?" she asked.

"Fine, I've a bit of a headache coming on but otherwise I'm fine."

The chips were cold, even through the toilet paper.

"Good." Gabrielle continued to hold the chips in place. Jo was slightly uncomfortable with their proximity.

"Will I hold the chips?" she asked. "And you can finish the lady's hair."

Gabrielle handed them to her. It was only as she walked away that Jo realised she'd blown her first real opportunity to talk to her.

0-0-0

Back on the Grid Adam reefed the loose cover off May's plays and settled back into his seat to read the first one. Within minutes he was hooked. It was a mystery play, he'd always loved mysteries.

"What have you got there?" Zaf asked, leaning over to have a look. Adam glanced up in annoyance at being interrupted.

"A play," he said, curtly.

"Can I have a look?" Zaf asked.

"Only if you're quiet." Adam gestured to the pages on his desk that he'd already read.

"Never was one much for literature," Zaf said, picking up the pages anyway. "Is it any good?"

Adam glared at him. Zaf recognised the I-am-going-to-hurt-you-a-lot look and stepped away from the desk carefully.

"I'll take that as a yes then."

0-0-0

"Mum!" Sean cried feebly. Jo turned to look at him, still clutching the chips to her now numb forehead. He was so quiet she'd forgotten he was there. Nobody seemed to have heard him except her. Deborah was taking payment from Peroxide lady and Gabrielle had vanished somewhere with her mobile. Jo turned back to the boy.

"Are you ok?" she asked kindly.

Sean shook his head. "I'm too hot" he said, shivering. They'd wrapped him up in his mum's coat when he came in and left him to sleep at the back of the shop. Jo got up slowly, careful not to make sudden movements that'd set her head spinning, and knelt down beside him. She put her hand on his forehead. He was burning up.

"Here," she said, handing him her bag of frozen chips and taking off Gabrielle's coat. "Is that better now?"

Sean shook his head again. "Not much," he said, and his eyes glistened with tears. "My ear really hurts." Jo smiled sympathetically at him.

"Ok, I'll fetch your mum," she said, standing up a bit too quickly. Her head started to pound and she felt nauseous. "You lie down again, good boy."

She walked up to Deborah behind the counter.

"I think Sean needs to see a doctor, he has an earache," she said.

Deborah took in her pale face.

"I think you need to see one too," she said.

Jo shook her head, nearly fell over and grabbed the desk to stop the saloon spinning.

"Maybe you're right," she admitted.

Deborah checked the appointment book in front of her. "I've no more appointments until four, I'll drive you over."

"Elle!" she yelled out the door. "I'm bringing Joss to the doctor and I think Sean should go too."

Gabrielle stuck her head around the door. "Why, what's wrong with him?"

Deborah looked at Jo.

"He has a temperature and an earache," Jo told Gabrielle.

Gabrielle finished her cigarette in one long drag.

"Good idea then. There's money in my purse to pay for Joss." She stubbed her cigarette out against the wall and dropped it into an ash tray behind the reception counter. Then she walked down to Sean, whispered soothingly to him and helped him up to the front of the shop where Jo and Deborah were waiting. She also carried their respective coats and bags. "See you later," she said to Deborah, "I'll call May and get her to meet you at the clinic."

"See you tomorrow," she said to Jo.

Deborah was parked two-minutes from the saloon. She had a small, practical car.

"Thank god we don't pay congestion charges here," she said offhandedly to Jo. "I'd never survive."

They bundled Sean into the back and Deborah fastened his seat-belt. She had a booster seat in the back of the car.

"Do you have kids of your own?" Jo asked. Deborah closed the car door so Sean couldn't hear.

"No, but I've been Sean's ambulance a few times when he's sick so Elle got me a car seat for him. One of her customers sold it to her cheaply."

Jo looked at the boy in the back of the car. He was very thin she realised. Scrawny, even.

"Is he sick often?"

"About once every fortnight. Usually it's just an upset stomach and the trip to the doctor is precautionary, but this is the second time he's looked really unwell."

"Does it not bother you that Gabrielle isn't coming with us?" It bothered Jo, quite a lot.

"No, not really," Deborah said. "Elle's an odd fish. Her mood may change three, four times a day but she's a good person beneath it all. She's very trusting, and loves Sean deeply. Sometimes I think –" here she stopped herself. "No, that's another day's discussion." At this she got into the driver's seat, let Jo in the passenger's side and they drove off. Deborah turned on her radio, presumably to discourage Jo from saying anything in the car.

"How are you getting home?" she asked Jo as they pulled into the clinic. It hadn't been a long drive.

"Oh, I suppose I'll ask my boyfriend to pick me up."

"Would you like me to call him?"

"No, no, I'll call him now."

Jo called the Grid once they got out of the car. Malcolm picked up.

"Hi Alf," Jo said, turning away from Deborah. "Listen, I've banged my head and may have concussion… No, I'm ok, just a bit dizzy… Yes, I'm at the Westbury clinic. Could you bring me home later?.. About half an hour, depends how many people are here… Thanks, love you…Bye, bye…bye. Yes, really I'm ok. Bye. Love you too, bye." She hung up and turned to see Deborah smiling widely.

"Nice boy?" Deborah asked, casually.

"Very," Jo said, smiling back. Deborah helped Sean out of the car and into the doctor's waiting room while Jo checked in at the desk.

0-0-0

Ruth couldn't stand it anymore.

"Zaf, Adam, you haven't said anything in an hour. It's beginning to make me nervous," Ruth said. "What have you got that's so interesting?"

Zaf and Adam both glanced up at her. Zaf had pulled his chair over to Adam's desk so that he could read each page as Adam put it down. Adam looked at Zaf, as in, your turn to answer mate, before returning his attention back to the pages.

"It's a series of short plays," Zaf said. He put his head back down and continued reading.

"They aren't Top Gear plays are they? Because the last time you two were so quiet was when their annual came out." She got no response. "Zaf?"

Ruth leaned around her computer screen so she could see them both properly. They were totally engrossed. Curiosity tickled, she got up and picked up the first of the plays' pages to read it. Then she picked up the second page, then the third, and the fourth, and the fifth, and the sixth….

0-0-0

Jo recognised the middle-length strawberry blonde hair passing by the window. May had arrived. Once she'd checked with the lady in reception May hurried into the waiting room. She was out of breath, her hair was a mess and she could have done with plucking her eyebrows, but Jo appreciated why Deborah had said she was a pretty girl earlier. She was pretty in a fresh-faced angular sort of way. Then out of the corner of her eye Jo saw Deborah watching her watching May, so she looked away. May thanked Deborah and pulled Sean onto her knee. Deborah and May conversed lightly for a while, and then Deborah stood to leave.

"See you tomorrow Joss," she said to Jo on her way out. May looked over at Jo.

"You're Sophie's replacement at Elle's aren't you?" she asked, knowing the answer but presumably asking to start a conversation.

"Yes." Jo smiled.

"Jess is it? Why are you here, do you mind me asking?"

"No, not at all. I banged my head. Just here in case I have concussion. And it's Joss." She closed the magazine she was pretending to read and moved to sit nearer May and Sean.

"How are you feeling now?" she asked Sean.

"Bad," Sean said. "My ear hurts a lot."

Jo pulled a sympathetic face. "I know how you feel. I used to get earaches a lot when I was little."

"I did too," May said in surprise. "Sensitive ears run in our family, which is probably why Sean here has them."

"They don't run in mine," Jo said. "I was just unlucky. Horribly painful things earaches are." May nodded in agreement. Sean whimpered and tugged at his ear.

"Hush poppet," May said quietly. "Don't pull your ear, you'll only make it worse."

Sean whimpered again, eliciting a glance or two from the relatively few other patients in the waiting room. He started to cry, and May rocked him gently on her lap.

"Hush, hush," she said softly.

The receptionist came into the room. "Dr. Gemma will see you now Sean, would you like to follow me?"

"See you later," May said to Jo as she stood up. She carried Sean over to the door on one hip, swinging her bag onto the other shoulder with her free arm. Sean was really too big to be carried, but as he rested his head on May's shoulder they both looked so comfortable that Jo envied them. She stared out the door after them until a rap on the window drew her attention to Bob, or rather Alf, standing outside. She went out to meet him.

"Hi," she said, giving him a hug. "Fill me in," she said once her face was close enough to his shoulder. He spoke quickly and in a very low voice.

"We met sixteen months ago on your holiday in Lanzarote. Shared a hotel, met in the swimming pool. Met again in a dance-club, then on the beach. I asked you out and we've been going out since. My mother's name is Janet, half-Irish, half-English, my father's name is Charlie, and he's from London. I know your legend pretty well. I like everything you like, except soup. I won't drink soup. Need to know anything else?"

"No, that'll do for now."

"Good." He pulled out of the hug and pecked her on the cheek.

"How's the head?" he asked.

"Not bad, I gave it an awful wallop and I have a bad headache and I get a bit dizzy if I move too quickly but otherwise I'm fine."

Bob looked into her face. She was a bit pale maybe, and there was a nasty bump and scrape on her forehead but otherwise she looked all right.

"Let's go inside," he suggested. "Wind's too cold to stand about out here."

0-0-0

Harry looked out at his team for the third time in half an hour. Adam and Zaf sat at Adam's desk, and Ruth perched on the one next to it. None of them had moved in that time, except to pass along pages from a document Adam was holding. Occasionally, when her hands were empty, Ruth would say something in what looked like frustration to Zaf, until he handed her the next page and she fell quiet again.

His spy sense was tingling. Something was definitely wrong. Rather than walk out to them he picked up his phone and called Adam's desk. The phone rang and all three jumped an inch off their seats. Adam picked up cautiously.

"Harry?"

"Sorry to interrupt the party, but would somebody mind telling me what the hell is going on?" Harry breathed heavily down the phone.

"Err…"Adam exchanged looks with his colleagues. They both looked guiltily back at him. "Nothing really Harry, nothing to concern you."

"Well I am bloody concerned. I want all three of you in here at once, and bring those pages with you." He slammed the phone back into its cradle with a satisfying smack. Adam flinched on the other end of the line. He said something to Ruth, who picked up the bundle of papers beside her. They filed into Harry's office quietly and stood like naughty schoolchildren expecting to be scolded. They hadn't brought all the papers either, only the ones they had read. Ruth put the incomplete document down onto Harry's desk and stood back with Zaf and Adam. Harry picked up the top page.

"Gutters and Stars," he read disbelievingly. "A Series of Separate but Interlinked Plays by May Sullivan."

He looked up at his officers. "You mean to tell me that the document my officers have been pouring through for the last two hours does _not_, as I suspected, detail the destruction of humankind? No, far worse, they have been reading a play. A play by an Irish lesbian, no less. Truly, I can see how dedicated you all are to serving your country."

Adam thought on his feet. "They were helping me look for a hidden message in the script. I thought May might have inadvertently let something slip."

"Is this correct?" Harry asked Ruth and Zaf. They nodded hastily.

"I see," Harry said, disbelief palpable in his voice. "And _have_ you found the message of this play yet?"

"Err, no. Not yet. But we're nearly finished and then we'll know for definite if there is one."

Zaf looked up from the floor, "And actually it's a series of plays, not just a play. I'm just saying because you said play and it's really plays…" His voice died off under Harry's glare.

Then Ruth piped up, "They're very good Harry. They're well structured, have credible characters and are meaningful without being corny. There are some excellent one-liners in it. Like 'I think stiff competition may not have been the best choice of words for a funeral, Mr. Wallowskein.'" Ruth delivered the line well and Adam and Zaf both smirked, though they hard not to. Harry felt like the loser, perpetually left out of the joke.

"Really Harry," Ruth continued. "I think you'd like them."

Harry glared at them for a while, letting them stew uncomfortably.

"I'm seriously displeased with you all," he said when he thought they'd stewed long enough. "If you could you do some actual work for the rest of the day I'd highly appreciate it." He waited until they'd filtered back out the door and were seated at their desks before he picked up the first page of script.

Several minutes later, Harry walked out of his office. "Ruth," he called. "When you've finished analysing the rest of those plays, drop them on my desk would you?"

0-0-0

Sean and May came back into the waiting room once Sean had been examined by the doctor. May seemed surprised to see a man with his arm around Jo.

"Hello," she said to Bob. "I don't think we've met. I'm May." She offered him her hand.

"I'm Alf," he said, shaking it.

"Alf's my boyfriend," Jo said, smiling at Bob. "He's part Irish."

"Which part?" May asked.

"His beard," Jo said quickly before Bob could open his mouth. "It's red when it grows. He also has a partiality for thatched houses in the countryside, though I'm not sure if that's the Irish blood or something more sinister."

She smirked at him and he pinched her playfully.

"Liar," he said. "My beard does not grow red." He looked up at May, "I'm a quarter Irish on my mother's side. Her mother was from Cork, where are you from?"

"Dublin county."

"Ah, so you're a townie then, like us."

Jo leaned forward to address Sean.

"How's your ear," she asked him.

"It's still hurting, but the doctor gave May a perscription to make it stop and I have to stay in bed for a few days, or lie on the couch watching tv and I'm not allowed go to school till I'm better." He looked thoroughly miserable.

"But that's good isn't it?" Jo asked. "Having no school and watching cartoons all day sounds like fun to me."

Sean shook his head. "I won't be able to go to the playground," he said dolefully.

May rubbed his hair affectionately. "How about we go to the playground for a whole day when you're better, before you go back to school. Is that a good deal?"

Apparently he thought it was. His face widened into a gappy grin and he wrapped his arms around May's waist.

"We'd better go," May said, one hand still in Sean's hair. "I just dropped in to make sure you were ok and to see if you had some way of getting home. I'm about to order a taxi, I thought you might need one too. Obviously not." She smiled at Bob.

"Hey," Jo said on impulsive. "Why don't we give you a lift home? You brought the car, right?" she asked Bob, who nodded.

"Yeah, that's a good idea," he said. "Car's outside. Can we offer you a lift?"

May looked uncertain. "No, we'd only be putting you to trouble," she said. "It's not a problem to get a taxi. It'll be here in ten minutes."

"I'll be done in ten minutes," Jo said. As if on cue the receptionist arrived at the door.

"Ms. Hogan, Dr. Gemma will see you now. This way please."

"You see," Jo said, standing up. "Ten minutes. Do wait for us won't you?"

She waited at the door for May's response. May made her decision.

"Ok thanks," she said. "We'll wait here."

Dr. Gemma was an old lady with short white hair. She was very friendly, and somewhat grandmotherly in the way she shook her head as Jo told her what happened. She asked a few simple questions like what Jo's name was and where she lived and where she met her boyfriend. Nothing out of the ordinary. She said to take over-the-counter pain-killers for the headache, to avoid further head-injuries and to take it easy for a week or so. Oh, and not to be so bloody stupid in the future. Though the last part in not so many words.

"Watch her tonight," she advised Bob. "If she gets seriously ill, or if you have trouble waking her, then call an ambulance to bring her to hospital."

"You should be fine dear," she added to Jo. Jo thanked her and they left the surgery.

"Ready to roll?" Bob asked May as he and Jo reached reception.

"Yes, certainly. Would it be too much trouble to stop at a pharmacy on the way?"

"Not at all," Bob said, good-naturedly. "Joss has to buy some paracetamol anyway."

They waited twenty minutes for Sean's medicine in the pharmacy. May apologised profusely for the delay as they waited and said they could go on if they wanted to. Bob waved away her apologies, saying it was no hassle at all and he was glad he could help. Jo wished they'd hurry up, but she didn't really mind the waiting it was just she was getting tired. She took Bob's keys and said she'd wait in the car.

In the car she turned on the radio to try to stay awake. But her eyelids were heavy and her head was rolling on her shoulders. She never remembered being this fatigued before. It scared her. She got out of the car and was glad when the chilly October wind woke her up a bit. She even managed a smile when Sean, May and Bob came out of the pharmacy. Sean, she was glad to see, had perked up considerably and Bob was busy playing the model boyfriend. May seemed to enjoy his company. The two of them were laughing together as they approached the car.

The drive to May's apartment was short, and Jo was glad of it. She needed to go to the Grid, file a quick report and then she could go home to sleep. She held her facade together long enough to wave May and Sean a cheery goodbye before she settled back into her seat and closed her eyes.

"Are you ok?" Bob asked suddenly, waking her from her almost sleep.

"I'm fine," she muttered. People kept asking her that today. And the answer was always the same. _I'm fine, I'm fine, no really, I'm fine._ She speculated briefly on whether everybody who claimed to be fine was lying and in her half-asleep state wondered if she'd had a life revelation, or something. She just wanted to sleep, craved her bed badly…

But they had to go to the Grid first. She sat up sharply.

"Where are we going?" she asked, not recognising the street they were in.

"I'm bringing you to Zaf's flat."

"What? Why? No, we need to go to the Grid and then I'm going home."

Bob glanced over at her. "We went to the Grid but you were asleep, so I got Zaf's spare key from him. He said he'd be back in an hour or so and he'll check on you then."

Jo was confused. "Why are we going to Zaf's flat? I want to go home. Take me home."

Bob looked deeply troubled. "Jo," he said slowly. "You moved into Zaf's flat a month ago. It is your home."

Oh yes, that was right. "Fine, take me to Zaf's flat then."

0-0-0

Adam arrived at the playground at ten past five. There was no sign of May. He had a laptop with him, which he kept carefully on his knee. He'd nearly dropped it when Malcolm had told him how much it cost. Wes happily joined the flock of children milling around the playground, though there was no sign of his little girl-friend from the previous day, Adam noted.

He was there nearly an hour before May arrived. She smiled when she saw him and picked her way through waist-high children until she reached his bench.

"Sorry I took so long," she breathed. "I half expected you to be gone." Rather than return niceties he took her script out of his bag and jumped straight to the point.

"This is bloody good. I started reading it when I got back from lunch and couldn't put it down. Two of my colleagues who also read it were worse than a couple of kids with only one version of a new Harry Potter book between them. Even my boss read it. In fact, he's still reading the other half. Basically, the companies who rejected you were fools. I'll have you know that your plays were personally responsible for the London footsie falling six points this afternoon. When was the last time you sent these out?"

May gazed at him, surprised by his enthusiasm.

"Not recently," she said. "I've been too busy trying to pay the rent, and hold down a job. Not that I have a job after today."

"What happened today?" he asked, his turn to act surprised.

May appeared to hold an internal debate. How much should she tell him?

"I picked up my nephew from school and brought him to Elle because he was sick and then I was meant to go to work, but…"

She sought appropriate words.

"I had a row with Elle and went to the park to think for a while. Which was just before you brought me to lunch."

Adam frowned. "It must have been some row to upset you like that."

"Elle is my partner," May said quietly, tugging her scarf up around her ears and waiting to see how he took this piece of news. Adam sat pensively.

"You mean your nephew's mother is your girlfriend?"

"Yes."

"That must be awkward at family dos," he said after a short pause.

May's face whispered her relief for her. "You're about one of ten people who know that, and the first to make light of it," she said.

Adam sat forward, thinking fast. "I had a boyfriend myself once, when I was about fifteen. And you are one of two people who know that. No, make that three, I suppose he knew about it too."

A total untruth, but the genius of sharing a supposed confidence was that it made the other party more inclined to trust you. Adam could feel the change in the dynamic between them already.

"What was his name?" she asked.

"Tom," he said. "It didn't end well."

"Oh, how so?"

"Well, it transpired that neither of us was gay, which as you can imagine was a bit of a passion killer."

A corner of May's mouth twitched up. "Yes, I guess that would be."

"Anyway, did you not go to work after I left you?" Adam asked.

"No, I was on my way when Elle called to ask if I could meet Sean at the medical centre. She had to work. I could hardly say no, so I called work to say that I was going to the doctor and the manager was very aggressive. She told me that they were swamped, that I was unreliable and I'd better get my act together."

Adam sat up indignantly, "She can't say that! That's harassment, or something. I'm sure you could sue for it."

"It doesn't matter. I quit."

"Oh."

Zaf had put the manager up to it by sending in a team of irritating customers at lunch-time, in the hope that she'd take it out on May later. The ploy had obviously worked, if not quite in the way intended.

She said nothing. Neither did he.

"I guess I'll have to apply for college now won't I," she ventured eventually.

"You'll certainly need a CV." He removed his laptop from his bag. "Shall we start?"

0-0-0

* * *

**AN: Thank you everyone who reviewed part one, I love getting positive feedback. I also quite like thoughtful criticism, which goes a long way towards helping me write better. I know there are more people reading this than will review, which is fair enough, but I'd quite like to hear what you think too. So, please review. (Beaming smile)**

**By the way, I said "said" 96, or is it 98 times in this chapter. Suitable substitutes anybody? I do my best, but I can't find many more ways of saying said (99 times now) than I have already.**

**As for updates, I have part three written and will update once part four is done. I only have five parts plotted in my head at the moment, so the story will begin to un-knot in part three...**

("Said" - just to make it an even 100!)


	3. Part 3

**Part Three**

"**What are you doing?"**

0-0-0

"Jo," Zaf ventured into her room without turning on the light. "Jo, are you ok."

He got no response, so carefully stepped over the various articles of clothing on her floor until he reached her bed.

"Jo." He poked her. "Jo wake up, are you okay?"

"I was until you woke me up," came the bitter response.

"Right. Sorry. I was just checking to make sure you hadn't died or anything."

"I'm fine," Jo said irritably. "Now go away and let me sleep."

0-0-0

"Jo," Zaf came into her room again some hours later. "Jo, you aren't comatose are you?"

Again, no response. Zaf wearily picked his way across the floor and poked her.

"Jo?"

Still no response. He shook her. She didn't wake up.

"Bugger." Zaf said, wiping sleep from his eyes. He pulled out his mobile and called Adam.

"This'd better be important mate," Adam yawned sleepily into the phone.

"Adam, I can't wake Jo."

There was silence on the other end of the line as Adam raked his brains for a coherent thought. "Right, have you poked her?"

"Yes."

"Shaken her?"

"Yes."

"Turned on the light?"

"No, should I do that?"

"Yes."

"Okay." He turned on the light, still nothing.

"Nothing," he said to Adam.

Again, Adam was silent. "Check her breathing. I'll be over in five minutes," he said. "And I'll call the medic on my way."

Four minutes and twenty three seconds later Adam arrived outside Zaf's flat, carrying Wes on his shoulder, followed closely by an ambulance.

"She's through here," Zaf said, as they burst through the door. The medic team went first and Adam trailed close behind.

0-0-0

"For God's sake Zaf, could you not have shaken her a bit harder?"

"How was I supposed to know she was that heavy a sleeper?"

Adam threw himself back onto Zaf's sofa. Wes muttered a protest at being disturbed and turned over on his side. Adam thought about following suit and sleeping, but the adrenaline was still buzzing in his veins. He needed to relax.

"Well, at least she's all right I suppose. Any chance of a quick drink?"

"Yeah, sure."

Zaf poured them each a measure of whiskey. His arm was quavering. He dropped the bottle onto the counter and laid his hands on either side of it, steadying himself. It wasn't just his hands which were shaking now, his entire frame was shivering.

Adam stood up and walked over to him.

"Are you all right mate?"

Zaf nodded. Then he looked around him, as though checking that the ambulance crew were really gone.

"I was really worried Adam," he said quietly. "I don't know what I'd do if...if…"

Adam laid a hand on one of his shoulders.

"It didn't happen. She's fine. She may be a bit angry at you in the morning for over-reacting, but hey, better safe than sorry."

Zaf composed himself. He downed the whiskey and poured himself another. Adam picked up his own and sat back down on the couch. He felt unexpectedly tired. The couch was comfortable. He put his feet up and his glass down and closed his eyes for a second.

"Will I get you both sleeping bags?" Zaf asked. Adam opened his eyes slowly.

"No, I'm not staying. Not fair on Wes."

He swung his legs off the sofa.

"I'd better not have that drink after all. Call me in the morning," he said. "If Jo hasn't killed you."

0-0-0

"How are you feeling?"

Zaf opened one bleary eye to see Jo standing at the foot of the bed. She'd turned the light on, and it was burning straight into his retinas.

"Hung-over," he groaned, regretting drinking those three whiskeys he'd poured for himself _and_ the one he'd poured for Adam.

"Good, I'm glad. Have you any idea how embarrassing it is to be woken up by an ambulance team?"

"I can't say I do, no," he dragged himself out of bed. "I know how embarrassing it is to feel like a chump after calling one though. What time is it?"

"Half-five."

Zaf groaned again and threw himself back on the bed.

"What did you wake me at this time for?"

"Revenge is a dish best served early. Briefing's at eight, see you then."

She turned off the light and left the room, smirking. He wouldn't sleep.

0-0-0

"…GCHQ have been monitoring the phone calls made in Gabrielle's saloon, most of them by Gabrielle herself, and have given us a list and profiles of the recipients. The calls themselves were in Irish and they're working on translating them now. Ruth, I want you to check each person carefully for some clue as to what Gabrielle and May are up to."

"Any idea what I'm looking for Harry?"

"Not yet. Run a link analysis to see if these people have anything unusually common in their backgrounds. Malcolm, any progress on making those bugs work?

Malcolm shook his head, "I can't tune out the noise of the hairdryers. I've never had to bug a hairdresser's before. We've tried noise-compensation, filtration, boosting the power amongst a myriad of other possibilities – none of them work."

"This is ludicrous. MI 5, bested by hairdryers? Make them work Malcolm, we must know what's being said in there. In the meantime Jo, I want you to stand as near to conversations as possible. Ask questions, drop hair rollers, whatever it takes to be near enough the dialogue that we can hear it via your mike. Adam, any progress to report?"

"We wrote May's CV together yesterday evening in the playground, and I've given everyone a copy of it. Bear in mind that it could be totally or in some respects fabricated, but I don't think it is. Hopefully the details will throw up some links with the people who've been in contact with them recently. I also think we should check out their neighbours, they may be involved somehow."

"I've already started it," Ruth said. "There's just one or two who I need to do more detailed checks on."

Harry smiled appraisingly and Ruth glowed happily. Adam let them have their moment before he continued.

"Over the course of our meeting it transpired that Gabrielle and May live downstairs from an old ex-navy nut-job who occasionally sweeps the building for bugs. As far as I could gather he uses a 70's device. Malcolm, any chance he'll pick up the cameras we've hidden in their apartment?"

Malcolm looked concerned, "Did she say what type of detector it was?"

"No, only that it was old-fashioned, about this big," Adam made a shape the size of small tissue box with his hands, "and black."

"Nothing else? Markings? Dials?"

"No, and I couldn't exactly ask without arousing suspicion. I don't think she knew what make it was, to be honest. She doesn't strike me as the technical type. She could hardly type two-fingered. I only got as much out of her as I did because I told her I'd never seen a bug-detector before."

"I could send somebody in," Zaf suggested. He looked peaky and tired. It was the first time he'd spoken all briefing. "Check it out, see if it's a threat."

"It probably won't be," Malcolm said. "70's devices aren't generally sensitive enough to pick up our new cameras."

"All the same," he added after a moment's reflection. "It might not be a bad idea to replace it with a decoy until the operation is over."

"One more thing," Adam said. "May quit her job in the coffee shop. She should be calling around to sort out references today but we need a tail on her whenever she leaves the building. I've arranged to meet her again at lunch-time at the playground. On a more personal note she doesn't appear to have many friends in London, and there seems to be some sort of trouble between her and Gabrielle at the moment."

"What kind of trouble?" It was Jo who asked.

"Rows. Gabrielle apparently yelled at her for quitting her job. Gabrielle has her wrapped around her little finger. May will do anything for that woman."

"Commit an act of terror even?" Harry questioned. Adam shrugged. Harry turned to face Jo, who was video-calling from her temporary abode. "Jo? You met her. Is she capable of blowing up London?"

"She certainly didn't reveal any radical tendencies to me." Jo dipped her head, scraping her hair back into a pony-tail as she spoke. "Though I did observe that May seems to value their relationship more than Gabrielle. I've been thinking Harry, there's something funny about the cupboard. I'm going to take another look at it later if I can. And I think you need to check Gabrielle's customers for unusual activities and backgrounds."

"Good idea. Ruth, another job for your capable hands I think. Use the CCTV footage from the saloon and see if any of the customers have a dodgy past."

Finally, Harry turned to Zaf.

"Next time Jo gets concussion, you will check that she's not just sleeping before calling in the ambulance won't you?"

Zaf nodded meekly, too tired to even contemplate a witty retort.

"Excellent. Good work in the cafe by the way. And now that everybody is fully briefed I expect the matter to be resolved by lunch-time. Do I make myself clear?"

The team nodded and gathered up their files to go. Adam paused, blocking the doorway.

"So there wasn't a message concealed in the plays then Harry?" he asked innocently.

"As you damn well know Adam, no, there was not. And don't you have work to do? Because I can find some for you if you like. And it won't involve any plays."

Adam ducked out the door quickly.

"They were good though, weren't they?" Ruth, as always, was last to leave the room.

"Yes," Harry admitted begrudgingly. "They were all right."

0-0-0

Deborah was standing at the reception when Jo arrived at the saloon shortly after nine. She smiled broadly as Jo walked in.

"You look much better today Joss. Did you sleep well?"

"Reasonably well thanks."

"Good, good. All set for a hard day's work?"

"As set as I'll ever be."

"Does that hurt?" Deborah gestured at the purple-black lump on Jo's forehead.

"A bit. Not much, I've had worse."

Deborah scrutinised the bruise closely.

"It probably looks worse than it is," she decided. "Here, let me take your bag and coat, you go put the kettle on."

She helped Jo out of the second arm of her coat and hung it up in the closet behind the counter, fixing the collar and sleeves as she did. She also dropped Jo's bag in before shutting the door. She had to shut it several times before it stayed close. Like everything else in the saloon the door needed to be fixed.

"Do you take milk or sugar?" Jo asked.

"Just milk please."

Jo opened the small staff fridge at the back of the saloon. She shook the milk carton, it was next to empty.

"There's no milk, will you have your tea black?"

Deborah pulled a face.

"No, I'll pop around to the shops and buy some. If anyone comes in or phones to make an appointment while I'm gone take their name and number and tell them I'll get back to them."

"I could make the booking if you like," Jo offered.

"Thanks sweetheart, but you don't know the rosters yet. Just take their number, there's a good girl. Back in a minute."

Jo waited until Deborah was gone before swinging into action. The door of the fuse-box slash junk cupboard opened smoothly, the hinges had obviously been oiled in the recent past. She felt around the edges of the door frame. Outside the cupboard was wooden, but inside it was metal.

Just then an urgent voice broke radio silence.

"Subject is returning, repeat, subject is returning to shop."

Jo stuck her head out of the cupboard just in time to hear the bell over the door ring as Deborah walked back in.

Deborah strode swiftly down the shop. "What are you doing?" It wasn't a question, she was demanding to know. A suitable cover-story failing her, Jo opted for an almost truth.

"I wanted to see if there was something in the cupboard I could have banged my head on. I remembered hearing a clang when I hit my head and wondered if it was my imagination."

Deborah continued to stare down suspiciously at her. Jo tried a change of tact.

"Did you get the milk? That was quick."

"I forgot my purse."

"Oh. Would you like me to go get it?"

Deborah did not respond. The bell over the door rang again and Jo looked up to see a woman standing by reception. Saved by the bell.

"I have an appointment for half nine?" the woman said, though she didn't sound too sure about it.

"I'll be with you momentarily," Deborah called back. "Would you care to take a seat?" She offered her hand to Jo and pulled her to her feet.

"The cupboard is metal, it has a wooden fronting on it to make it fit in with the decor," she said. "You shouldn't poke around too much in this place by the way. Stuff has a tendency to fall on people's heads."

With that she strode up to reception, where the uncertain woman continued to stand. Jo was left wondering whether she had just received a thinly veiled threat, or a piece of advice.

Deborah pulled Jo's coat out of the closet.

"Go get milk will you?" she asked mildly as Jo walked up the shop. "Here's some money, the shop is around the corner."

She handed the coat and the money to Jo.

"Be sure to get a receipt," she called as Jo walked out the door.

0-0-0

"What the bloody hell was _she_ doing there?"

The surveillance officer working with Zaf in the van outside Gabrielle's Saloon was skimming through the previous night's CCTV camera footage. He'd paused the video on a shot taken outside Jo slash Joss's flat. There, bold as brass, stood Deborah knocking on Jo's door. The time at the bottom of the screen read 17.52, ten to six.

"Play that for me," Zaf said, leaning over the officer's shoulder. He unfroze the screen. Deborah knocked on Jo's door, and when she got no response she knocked more insistently. Jo still didn't answer. She couldn't because at that time she had been sleeping in Zaf's flat. After two minutes Deborah gave up and walked out of the shot.

The officer cut to the car park. Deborah got into her car and drove away at 17.56.

"Show me that again," Zaf said. "Start when Deborah pulls into the car park."

They watched as Deborah's small, practical car drove around the underground car park before parking almost directly beneath the camera they were watching from. She stepped out of the car, picked up her bag and locked the car behind her. They watched her walk up the stairs. She had a small piece of paper in her hand which she examined as she moved. She then walked out of shot and back into the original frame they had seen her in, outside Jo's door. Again, she knocked, knocked again and waited two minutes before turning, leaving and walking back to her car.

"Where's the piece of paper gone?" the officer asked suddenly. He rewound the tape eagerly. "See, there it is in her hand the first time she knocks…" He zoomed in.

The paper was no longer visible in her hand.

"And now it's gone," he said triumphantly. The second officer in the van, a svelte red-haired girl recently out of training, stood up to have a look.

Zaf swore. "We have to warn Jo," he said. "Where's Deborah now?"

"She went to the shops to buy milk," the red-haired girl said as she sat back down at her post, just as Deborah walked swiftly around the corner on her way back to the saloon.

The girl panicked. "What do I do?" she screeched.

Zaf grabbed the mike from her.

"Subject is returning, repeat, subject is returning to shop," he said urgently into it. He then tore the cable of the girl's headphones out of the sound-board so they could all hear through Jo's mike what was going on in the shop.

"What are you doing?"

Deborah sounded very angry. As Jo blustered her way through an explanation Zaf grabbed the red-haired girl by the shoulder, and handed her a miniscule earphone.

"Put this in your ear and go in there and distract Deborah," he said.

"I can't do that, I'm not a field officer!"

Zaf looked her firmly in the eyes.

"We have to warn Jo. Go in, pretend to be a customer and I'll tell Jo to leave while Deborah is distracted. Kevin, talk her through it."

Kevin picked up the girl's abandoned headset. She looked over at him desperately.

"Why can't Kevin do it?"

"Because it's a woman's hairdressers. Now go!"

Zaf pushed her out of the van. She stumbled across the road and into the saloon.

"Say you have an appointment for half nine," Kevin directed her.

"Uh, I have an appointment for half nine?"

Deborah looked up at the girl. "I'll be with you momentarily, would you care to take a seat?"

"Don't sit down," Kevin advised. "She'll serve you quicker."

Deborah helped Jo to her feet. She spoke to her tersely, before moving to serve the red-haired girl. Jo stood still, a gormless expression on her face.

"Jo, get out of there quickly, we need to talk," Zaf hissed down the microphone. Startled out of her reverie Jo walked quickly towards the door. Zaf didn't wait to hear the rest of the conversation. "Get Susie out," he said to Kevin as he exited the van. Kevin nodded.

"Say your cousin booked you the appointment…" he was saying as the van door closed.

0-0-0

"Adam, I've checked out those last few neighbours. The man with the bug detector who lives above them has a history of paranoia, and he's been to jail a few times since leaving the navy. Nothing serious, well, unless you consider petty theft serious."

Ruth passed him a mug shot of the man, taken before his third three-month stretch in jail.

"Apart from him, a recurring link between the neighbours seems to be that they're Irish, not all of them of course but several are. Gabrielle and May's next door neighbour is a woman called Denise, she has a boy slightly younger than Sean."

She gave him a photo of Denise and her son, presumably taken at long-distance though zoomed in enough that Adam could read the writing on the boy's school bag.

"Ted Crilly and Robin Baskin live on the floor below them, they're flatmates. Their neighbour Charlotte O'Neill lives alone, apart from a hamster called Marvin."

More photos were produced. Even one of the hamster. Ruth was nothing if not thorough.

"Finally, and I think most importantly, the woman two floors up is called Oona Tóibín. She's thirty-two, lives alone, works from home and appears to be a friend of Gabrielle's. She was also on the list of visitors to Gabrielle's hair saloon."

Ruth dropped a picture of a woman with peroxide blonde hair on top of the others. Adam picked it up.

"Why is she so important?" he asked, memorising Oona Tóibín's face. And hair.

Ruth bit her lip anxiously, "I'm not sure I should tell you this yet, because I'm waiting to hear back from GCHQ, but I think Oona Tóibín may recently have been involved in the disappearance of a dissident Irish Republican from our jails."

"How recently? I don't remember any disappearance."

"Before I was posted to Section D, sort of recently. Not really that recently I know but about five years ago there was a clean up job, wiping all the information about this prisoner escape. It was all very hush-hush but I remember the name Tóibín coming up. Toy-bean. It isn't a very common name which is why it sort of stuck with me."

"What do you need GCHQ for?"

"I can't get the digital files, they were wiped by my friend who is very, very efficient at that sort of thing. But they usually keep hard copies of everything, and this friend of mine owes me a favour. I asked her to meet me for coffee…"

Adam nodded thoughtfully. "Good work Ruth. I'll have a look through the rest of these files, see if I can't come up with something."

0-0-0

"Do you think my cover is blown?" Jo asked Zaf as they left the shop together. He'd told her about what he'd seen on the CCTV footage. She looked concerned.

"I don't know. But she seemed very angry when you poked about in that cupboard. What was in there?"

"Nothing extraordinary. There was hairdryers, rollers, old magazines and some bottles of dye amongst other things. Hairdresser stuff, you know. The cupboard itself has a metal lining. Tin I think."

The fact that Deborah had arrived outside her flat was niggling her.

"What was she doing there?" she murmured. "And how did the paper disappear?"

"The first thing I can think of is that some footage is missing, but there's no time difference at the bottom of the screen. I'll send it to Colin to have a look at."

"Jo," he turned to look at her. "There isn't enough evidence yet to take you out of this op, but I want you to be careful. I think there's far more going on here than meets the eye."

Jo nodded, "I think so too. And I'm always careful Zaf."

Zaf let his eyes flicker over her forehead in response. Jo sighed.

"Ok, so I'll be more careful from now on."

0-0-0

Susie was still smiling when Zaf climbed back into the van, which he took as a good sign. "Good job Susie," he said in a congratulatory tone. "We'll make a field agent of you yet."

"Do you really think so?" asked Susie, delightedly. "Gosh it was fun. Did you see me talk to her? Kevin saw me, didn't you Kevin? I was good wasn't I?"

Zaf exchanged looks with Kevin, who rolled his eyes. Zaf smirked but Susie babbled on, unaware of the exchange. After a minute or so, he decided she'd babbled long enough.

"Shh!" he said dramatically, pointing at the live footage from inside the hairdressers. "I think something's happening." Susie closed her mouth instantly, staring intently at the screen. On it, Jo put a cup of tea down beside Deborah.

"That's it?" Susie cried in disappointment.

"Shh!" Zaf said again, seriously this time. Susie shut up.

"Is there enough milk in that for you?" Jo asked Deborah.

Deborah glanced at the cup. "Thanks petal, that's plenty."

She sipped the tea, and Jo sipped hers too.

"Where's Gabrielle?" Jo asked suddenly.

"She has Fridays off," Deborah replied, flicking through one of the magazines they kept for customers. "That woman is unnaturally skinny," she said, pausing on a picture of some celebrity or other in a bikini. " 'Get your bod bikini-fit in four weeks.' I wouldn't want a body like that if you paid me. What issue is this anyway?" She checked the front cover. "June. Well that figures." She closed the magazine and threw it back on the stack.

"Yes, Deborah takes Fridays off. It's only fair I suppose, she works nine hour shifts most days to keep this place afloat."

As far as Jo could see, Gabrielle tended to spend most of her time on the phone during those shifts, but she didn't argue. Instead she turned her attentions to that fly-away comment of Deborah's the day before.

"Remember you said, yesterday, that Gabrielle loves Sean deeply. And then you were going to say something else, but you didn't. What were you going to say?"

Deborah shifted her weight onto her other foot.

"I don't recall saying anything of the sort," she said.

"That was a lie," Kevin murmured, as though he was afraid Deborah might hear him over the traffic and through the side of the van.

"You did," Jo insisted. "Just before we got in the car."

"No I didn't," Deborah insisted right back. "Now go sweep the floor like a good girl."

Jo reluctantly disappeared down the back of the shop to fetch a sweeping brush. Zaf picked up his phone and called Adam.

0-0-0

Juliet wore a pitch-perfect face of severity.

"It's been a week Harry, why haven't we got a concrete case against our lesbian lovers yet?"

Harry sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's not that simple, we've been encountering difficulties."

"Such as?"

It took every ounce of restraint left in Harry to not bellow, _what the hell do you care you old trout?_

"Such as operational difficulties."

"Really? Why thank you for elaborating Harry. The question is, can your merry men resolve these difficulties anytime soon or shall I be forced to step in and take over this botched operation?"

Harry had had about enough.

"It would help if we knew what we were looking for Juliet! You swan in here and put me on some bloody wild goose chase for all I know. Unless I'm told what this is about right now..."

He left the threat hanging. Juliet said nothing, merely continued to stare haughtily at him.

"For Christ's sake Juliet, why are my men even involved in this? We haven't got a _whiff_ of a threat to national security yet. All we have is a meagre amount of money stuffed into a few bank accounts. The special branch could handle this one!"

Juliet considered her next words carefully.

"What I am about to tell you is strictly classified Harry." Harry pulled a face, Juliet continued unabated.

"We got a tip off, from Irish intelligence."

Harry snorted. "Irish Intelligence? Don't make me laugh Juliet."

Juliet was not laughing.

"I'm deadly serious Harry. They warned us of an imminent attack on our country, specifically naming Gabrielle and May as their prime suspects. The last thing this country needs is the Irish intelligence bleating 'told you so' at us after the event. Therefore, we need to get to the bottom of this and soon. I'm giving you the rest of the day to get your hands dirty Harry. If your men haven't managed to find our terrorists by then, then I'm stepping in and this operation is going to be done my way."

0-0-0

Adam studied his computer monitor. He was watching May and Gabrielle's apartment. It was quarter past ten in the morning and May was still in bed. In the room next to her Gabrielle was asleep on a chair next to Sean's bed, her face stuck to a book of fairy-tales. May had gone in during the night and found the two of them like that. She'd felt Sean's forehead, brushed a small curl off his face and draped a blanket over Gabrielle before curling up in her own bed and reading for a while. She was asleep now, breathing regularly as Adam watched. Occasionally her head would twitch back into the pillow. It was this tiny twitch Adam was examining intensely, the files in his hands forgotten.

His phone rang. It was Zaf.

"Adam I need some checks done on Deborah Langley."

"Not now, I'm busy. Ask Ruth." He hung up.

"210, 211, 212…" he counted under his breath. "213, 214, 215 –" May's head twitched.

There was a small analogue clock on the bed-stand beside May; its third hand was just about visible ticking, though whatever way the clock was angled he couldn't read the time. Adam watched it tick, counting under his breath.

"213, 214, 215 –"

As he suspected would happen, the second hand jumped at the same instant that May's head twitched. Adam grabbed his phone from its cradle and dialled Colin, who picked up immediately.

"Colin here. What can I do you for?"

"Colin, we need to switch off the surveillance in the Lovebird's flat and reboot immediately."

Colin was professional enough to not straight away ask why. He hastily started the reboot. Adam could hear his keyboard tapping over the line.

"Can I ask why we're doing this?" The tapping never stopped for a moment.

"Because somebody is feeding us a loop."

"A loop?.. Impossible. Picture should be back in a few seconds."

There was a tense moment of snowstorm on Adam's screen. When it cleared he could see May in the kitchen and Sean in his bedroom, but Gabrielle was no longer sleeping by Sean's bed.

She was gone from the flat.

Sound filtered through from the surveillance team outside the complex as the new feed reached them. They had obviously been receiving the same loop as the Grid.

"Bollocks!" one of the team swore loudly. "Mockingbird, we have a serious problem. Lovebird One has flown the Nest, repeat, Lovebird One has flown."

"Well don't just sit there, find her!" Adam barked uncharacteristically into his mouthpiece. "Whatever she's doing must be important if she needed to give us the slip!"

0-0-0

* * *

**AN: So there you have Part 3. Only 28 'said's in this chapter, you'll be glad to note. Thank you** **again everyone who left suggestions at the end of my last chapter : ) **

**Part 4 is more or less complete, but I now find myself in the difficult situation of trying to write Part 5. As you have probably not noticed, but will if you visit my profile, I have never finished any story ever (unless a one-shot, and it's kind of hard to not finish those). This is generally because once I reach the last chapter I tend to lose my nerve, thinking 'this is woeful shite and nobody will understand it'. My stories nearly always become contorted and overly complicated, something I have tried (and probably not suceeded) to avoid in this one. However, I ask you to bear with me while I try to round things off. Hopefully you will not be disappointed. **

**Motivation and reassurance to keep plodding on is, as always, appreciated though if you have a minute or two (points nicely to Review button).**

**So, fingers crossed, Part 4 coming soon.**


	4. Part 4

**Part Four**

**It's almost like they don't exist.**

0-0-0

Shortly after Gabrielle was discovered missing the Grid descended into bedlam.

Adam started directing operations from the meeting room. Harry saw Juliet out then strode through the turmoil to join him.

"Right," Adam was saying as Harry walked in. "Can we trace Gabrielle's mobile? Malcolm?"

"I'll get onto it." Malcolm hastened from the room. Adam continued.

"We need to find out how Deborah Langley fits into all this. Zaf tells me she turned up unannounced at Jo's flat last night, and that he thinks the CCTV footage may have been tampered with. Colin, put a junior technician on it. Right now I want to know who messed with our circuit cameras in the Lovebirds Nest and how."

"Ruth, I want to know everything about Deborah Langley, from what she had for breakfast to what she's likely to have for lunch. I also want to know what Deborah was doing at Jo's flat."

"Zaf, Jo stays in the saloon with Deborah for now, but if there's any danger of her being discovered I want her pulled out immediately, do you copy?"

Zaf was on speaker-phone. "Loud and clear. Any danger, get Jo out. Right."

"Which just leaves May. I think it's time to ask her what the money's for. Any suggestions as to how we might do this?"

"Bring her in and question her," Colin suggested.

Adam shook his head. "Better not. Not yet."

"We have one hundred and fifty thousand pounds sitting in a bank account in her name," Harry pointed out. "Yet she claims to be broke. I think that's enough to bring her in."

"Perhaps for tax evasion, but not terrorist charges. I think bringing her in is too heavy handed to start. Let's throw her a line and see if she catches it. How about sending someone in?"

"What about a tax man?" Ruth suggested. "Or, a revenue inspector to ask her where the money came from?"

Harry nodded. "A good idea, Ruth. Did you have anyone in mind?"

Ruth shook her head. "I'll find you somebody off the list. Brief them quickly."

"Why don't we use a real revenue inspector?" Colin asked. "I happen to know an ex-Spook in that line of work these days."

"Who?" Adam asked.

"Tom Quinn."

"No, he's a liability."

"I don't think he would be," Colin argued. "It's worked like a charm the last few times."

Adam frowned, "Last _few_ times?"

Colin coughed. "Apparently some of the other sections have been using him."

"Fine," Adam said darkly. "We use Tom. But first we need to find out what happened to the CCTV loops. Colin, get over there immediately. Ruth, after you've compiled everything on Deborah I need you to keep looking for links between Gabrielle, May and any, I mean _any,_ type of organisation. No matter how innocent I want to know about it. Let's find out what they're doing for once and for all."

Harry stayed back after Colin and Ruth left the room.

"Adam," he started. Adam interrupted.

"You don't need to tell me not to screw up on this one Harry. I'm not going to. We're going to find out what's going on and we're going to stop it."

Harry pursed his lips. "That's good to hear Adam, but that's not what I was going to say. The powers that be want us to haul our Lovebirds and assorted feathered friends in, and we only have –" he checked his watch "– at most fourteen hours before it goes over my head."

Adam grimaced. "By powers that be you mean Juliet."

"Of course. I have to warn you Adam that if this ruse with the revenue inspector doesn't work, then I will have to cage our bird May and hope she sings. To overextend the metaphor."

0-0-0

"Ok, do you want the good or the bad news first?"

Colin was calling Adam from the flat above May's.

"Start with the good news."

"The loop's fairly simple to explain. There's a device attached to each camera feeding a false image into its link to us while keeping the camera's clock running. I replaced the cameras rather than remove the devices, I thought we could do a more in-depth study of them later."

"And the bad news?"

"Whoever attached them managed to by-pass my alarm system which should have been triggered by any interference. Clearly, whoever did this has an in-depth knowledge of our surveillance technology. I'd say we're looking at professionals. And there were more than one of them."

"How do you know?"

Colin hesitated before answering.

"That's the other bad news. The man who lives in this apartment told us."

"The paranoid ex-navy man?"

"Er, yes. He was tied up when we arrived. We didn't know he was here and forced our way in and then we found him. He's ok but he saw everything. And," Colin lowered his voice, "he's a bit of a conspiracy theorist."

Adam groaned. "Just what we needed. Right, get somebody to take a statement and make him sign the official secrets act. Find out if he knows the people who planted the devices and if he doesn't have a look through all footage from outside the building with him. Look for anyone entering the building yesterday that shouldn't have been there. Actually, do that anyway."

There was another pause at the Colin's end of the line.

"Is there something else Colin?"

"It may be nothing…" Colin started awkwardly.

"But?"

"The technician I put on the tape from outside Jo's flat called. The piece of paper Zaf was talking about was still visible in Deborah's hand when the image was zoomed in and enhanced. The technician found nothing to suggest that there was any interference with the tape…"

"So, that's good news isn't it?"

"So, well, it may look like there was no interference, but after seeing what I see here today I'd say we were facing a very suave opponent. I'd like to check out the camera itself and also look for bugs in Jo's flat."

"Good idea Colin. Do that and report back when you've found something."

0-0-0

Jo picked up a magazine at the front desk and sighed. It was yet another old issue. Deborah was drying a lady's hair and there was little else Jo could do for the moment except keep an eye on her. She shuffled through the rest of the magazines and stopped on a recent edition near the middle of the stack. Pulling it out, she flicked through the pages. She wasn't sure what she was looking for. A phone-number with 'Terrorists are us' scrawled in large hand-writing underneath it perhaps? She didn't find it, whatever she may have been hoping to find.

Deborah finished drying the lady's hair and trimmed a few uneven hairs on her fringe. The lady thanked her, paid in cash and left the saloon. There was an uncomfortable pause as Deborah prepared to speak.

"I'm sorry about earlier," she said eventually.

"It's ok," Jo said. "I don't exactly have a great history with that cupboard. I probably shouldn't have been sticking my head in it again."

Deborah sighed. "Probably not. Anyway, I was just thinking that maybe I ought to tell you about what's happening with May, Gabrielle and Sean."

She paused to see if Jo was listening. She was, intently. Deborah continued.

Deborah stopped and sighed again, somewhat theatrically. "Elle's ex-husband, May's brother, hospitalised Gabrielle a few years ago and he's doing time in jail for it now, amongst other things. May and Gabrielle got to know each other when May looked after Sean for her. May, I think, fell in love. I think Gabrielle thought she was in love too, for a while."

Deborah looked over to check Jo was still listening. She was, attentively. Deborah, clearly revelling in the attention, drew herself up importantly.

"It only started to go wrong when they moved over here a year ago. May dropped out of college and she's been in and out of jobs every other month while Gabrielle is totally involved with this saloon. And,' Deborah paused dramatically, "she's clearly fallen out of love with May, but can't bring herself to leave her for Sean's sake. So there you have it," Deborah concluded. "The whole sad story. I don't have to tell you to keep it to yourself do I?"

"Of course not," Jo replied, thinking guiltily about the surveillance team sitting outside.

"Good," Deborah said. "There's another thing you should know though. I think Gabrielle is mixed up in something and I suspect it's illegal. I'd look the other way if I were you, or you may find yourself out of a job fairly sharpish."

0-0-0

Tom Quinn had aged since Adam had last seen him. His face was puffy, his jowls were starting to sag. There was a grey streak in his hair which, on another man, may have looked distinguished but on Tom merely highlighted how grey his face had become. He did not look like a well or happy man. Not on CCTV at least.

May opened the door to him. Her face fell when she saw it was not Gabrielle.

"Ms. Sullivan," Tom said, showing her his identification. "Tom Quinn. I'm from the revenue inspectorate. I'm here to discuss the large sums of money recently received in your bank account. Is this a good time?"

May looked confused. "Money in my bank account? I haven't got any."

"There's no point in denying it Ms. Sullivan, I do have a copy of the paperwork with me. If you answer my questions the matter can be resolved quickly. How did you earn the one hundred and fifty thousand pounds in your bank account?"

May shook her head. "You have the wrong person. Honestly I have very little money."

"That isn't what this bank statement says Ms. Sullivan," Tom said lightly, showing her the statement. May stared at it uncomprehendingly.

"Your flatmate Ms. Gabrielle McGuire has also received unusually large sums of money in the past few weeks, is she home?"

"No, Gabrielle's gone out." May continued to look at the statement.

"Very well, but I will need to speak to her too. Please have her arrange a meeting with us as soon as she comes in. Now if you wouldn't mind answering my question, how did you earn the money in this bank account?"

May shook her head again. "You don't understand. We don't have any money. We're broke."

Tom cleared his throat disbelievingly. "Your bank balance clearly states otherwise I'm afraid."

"Is this some sort of joke?" May asked suspiciously. "Because if it is, it isn't funny."

"I assure you this is no joke Ms. Sullivan. A transfer of this magnitude, half a million pounds, into new bank accounts when the recipients appear to have no previous large earnings is, in fact, generally indicative of criminal activity. If you do not answer I will be forced to return with an officer of the law."

May laughed nervously. "Then do that, I'll only tell him what I've told you. It's not my bank account. I don't know where this money is from, I don't know why it's in an account in my name. I'm not even sure that you're a revenue inspector. Please go away."

She closed the door slowly in Tom's face. He stood still for a moment before picking up his briefcase and walking away.

Adam's phone rang. Harry asked him to come into the office.

"We're going to have to bring her in," Harry said once Adam had closed the door. "You saw her. That money is ill-gotten and ill-purposed."

Ruth burst into the office before Adam could argue.

"I think I've found a link," she said breathlessly.

"A link?" Adam enquired.

"I had another look at the phone calls Gabrielle was making and most of them were to friends in Ireland. She was speaking Irish, so I couldn't follow most of it but here –"

She pointed to a circled word on the transcript of the phone calls.

"– is the word for money, _airgead_, here it is again, _airgid_, and here's a phrase about gay rights, _um Chearta don lucht Leispiach, Aerach, Déghnéasach agus Trasinscneach_. It got me thinking about the other people talking to Gabrielle. I ran a few searches and most of them are or were in same-sex relationships. It's been a very contentious topic in the Irish media and political sphere of influence lately and here," she tapped the page to emphasise her point, "is a phrase for direct action, _oibriú_ _díreach_. It's also a military term."

She looked at Adam and Harry keenly, "I think there may be some sort of plot to propagate gay rights. Possibly an assassination, that wouldn't be as expensive as, say, a bombing and would explain why they only have half a million pounds between them. Look, _doirteadh fola. _Blood Spill_._ _Gunnaí. _Guns_._"

"Militant gay mobilisation, my day just gets better and better," Harry muttered. Out loud he said, "Work on the link and see if this group have a name. Find out what their target is. You still think the money's legit?" he asked Adam, though it was a rhetorical question.

Adam took the pages from Ruth. "Don't bring May in yet Harry, let me talk to her as Peter Ellis. I arranged to meet her for lunch today. She trusts me. And let's find out what these phone calls mean before we use them as incriminating evidence."

"You have a point, why aren't these translated?" Harry asked Ruth.

"Um, the Irish translator at GCHQ is on holiday. And the automatic translation is in the process of upgrade works so they've sent the transcripts to a professor of Irish Studies. I did what I could with an online dictionary while we wait to hear back from him."

"Bloody typical," Harry grumbled. "Get onto him and make him hurry up would you Ruth?"

"Have you got the file on Deborah Langley yet?" Adam asked her. "And what about the file involving Oona Tóibín from GCHQ?"

"I have someone working on Deborah but Oona Tóibín is proving harder because the hard copy of the prisoner release has been removed, although my friend in GCHQ is following its paper trail at the moment. And she says she'll pass on the phone-tap translations as soon as they arrive."

"Who's Oona?" Harry asked.

"Oona lives in May and Gabrielle's apartment block, has her hair done in Gabrielle's saloon and Ruth remembers reading about her involvement in an Irish prisoner's disappearance a few years ago." Adam answered him. "Unfortunately the files on the escape seem to have vanished."

"They were wiped," Ruth finished for him.

Harry nodded thoughtfully. "Adam, talk to May and make her talk. This really is her last chance. Ruth, go talk to that Irish Professor."

0-0-0

Jo tidied up an empty cup, thinking about what Zaf had told her over the phone moments previously. A gay liberation cell? It was difficult to imagine May involved in something like that. But she could picture Gabrielle involved in it, and maybe Deborah. Jo picked up a magazine lying beside the cup. A film festival supplement fell out.

Jo stared at it, her brain cogs jolted into action. What if..?

Oh, that would be clever.

Far too clever. Gabrielle would never come up with something like that.

"Deborah," she asked offhandedly. "Where do the magazines come from? Does Gabrielle buy them?"

"No, not always," Deborah was flicking through one as she spoke. "Customers sometimes bring them in when they're done with them."

Drop-offs.

Why hadn't she seen it before?

She needed to tell Adam. Smacking herself lightly on the forehead she exclaimed, "Oh! I totally forgot, I was supposed to call Alf. Do you mind if I call him now?"

Deborah glanced up in surprise. "No, not at all," she said.

"Great." Jo stepped out of the saloon.

Adam picked up almost immediately with a terse, "Yes?"

"Adam, I think the magazines here at the saloon may have been used as drop-offs."

"Why do you think that?"

"Customers give them to Gabrielle. They'd be ideal for slipping information or money or whatever to her."

There was a short silence on the other end of the line as Adam thought.

"If they are drop-offs, with instructions, then we may be able to find out where Gabrielle is gone. Malcolm can't trace her mobile."

"Do you want me to start scouring them all for clues or something?"

Again Adam thought for a moment.

"That may not be necessary. I presume Zaf is listening in, Zaf check the CCTV footage from the saloon for the last two days. Go backwards, starting late last night. See if anyone left behind a magazine. There may be something in it."

"Will do," Zaf chirped in Jo's ear.

"He says he will," Jo passed on to Adam. Almost immediately Zaf cut in again.

"Gabrielle put a stack of magazines in the cupboard yesterday evening before she went home…"

"I heard that," Adam said before Jo repeated it.

"No others yet," Zaf muttered, rewinding the CCTV tape. "No. No. Aha!"

"What?"

"Some woman gave in a Woman's Own."

"Which issue?" Jo asked immediately.

"What?"

Jo sighed impatiently. "What's the month on it?"

"This September."

Jo hung up and walked back inside. Deborah smiled at her.

"How's your nice young man?"

"Fine," Jo replied cheerfully. "I don't suppose there are any fairly new magazines in that pile are there?"

"Don't know, have a look for yourself."

Jo sorted through the stack, looking for the Woman's Own. She found it and started flicking through it.

"Nothing here," she muttered when she'd finished.

"What's that?" Deborah thought she was talking to her.

"Nothing," Jo said aloud. "Just thinking aloud. These celebrities. They're so thin."

Deborah made a noise of agreement and turned back to her magazine.

Zaf spoke again. "Adam says nick it, we'll get the experts to take a look. And there was another drop," he said, spotting it on the tape. "It's a Now magazine, the November edition."

Jo flicked through the pile again. There was no Now magazines in it.

"Check the cupboard," Zaf instructed her. "Be careful of Deborah."

She'd have to wait until lunchtime; there was no other way she could get to the cupboard without attracting Deborah's attention. Unless she could distract her…

Jo sighed. "I need a smoke," she said aloud.

"I didn't know you smoked," Deborah frowned.

"I don't. Not anymore. I quit," Jo said, hoping Zaf had picked up on her request for a 'smoke-screen'.

"Me too," Deborah nodded. "But not before the wrinkles formed, more's the pity."

Before she could start to sermonise on the evils of smoking, however, the phone rang and Deborah answered it. From where she was standing Jo could hear Zaf's tinny voice over the line. Deborah started to argue with him, grimacing. After a minute or so she hung up and grabbed her jacket.

"Problem with the car," she said. "The ticket isn't showing or something. I'll be back in a minute. Hold the fort will you?"

"Certainly," Jo smiled.

"Is the coast clear this time?" she asked through her teeth once Deborah had gone.

"Yes. And we'll warn you before she comes back."

Jo strolled down to the metal lined cupboard and pulled all the magazines out onto the floor. The November edition of Now was in the middle of the bunch. Grabbing it she flicked through it quickly.

"Nothing apparent," she said disappointedly.

"Ok, put them all in a bin bag and bring them out to us. We'll have a look through them."

Jo scooped up an armful of the magazines and stuffed them into her bag. Zaf snatched the bag from her in the doorway and Jo hastily jammed all the junk back into the cupboard.

0-0-0

"Adam!" Ruth ran up waving a file. "Deborah Langley has military training. She's an ace-shot. And I looked up links to gay rights movements. She's had some buzz word letters published in the Irish papers recently; namely about homosexuals being treated like second-class citizen and the time having come to take more a direct approach to tackling discrimination."

Adam sat upright. He was on the phone to Colin, who hadn't been able to find any trace of bugging in Jo's apartment.

"Keep looking," he told Colin. "I want to be certain."

"Let's bring her in," he said to Ruth. "This has gone on long enough."

He called Zaf and told him to bring Deborah in.

"Has your friend in GCHQ found the Oona Tóibín file yet?" he asked Ruth when he hung up.

"No, not yet."

"And do we know who we're dealing with, besides that they're an odd consortium of gay rights activists?"

"I'm still working on it. Whoever they are they're completely below the radar. I've been compiling a list of possible targets, on the assumption there is an assassination plot. They're mainly prominent homophobic Irish targets here in London, but so far nobody on it that I've contacted has received threats."

"Keep working on it. And ask your friend to keep searching for that file. I have to go out and meet May now, keep me posted with any developments."

0-0-0

May was already standing by the playground when Adam arrived.

"Hello," he said cheerfully. "How's the search for references going?"

"What? Oh, I haven't found any."

"Oh," he said, puzzled. "Why not?"

May twisted her hands anxiously.

"I can't stay," she said, ignoring his question. "I shouldn't have come. I've left Sean with our neighbour and I have to get back."

She turned to leave. Adam put out a hand to stop her.

"Wait," he entreated. "At least tell me what's wrong."

She made no reply.

"Is it flatmate trouble again?" he asked. "Does Gabrielle not want you to go back to college?"

"No, no nothing like that. Well, I don't know. Elle isn't home. I have to go."

May was highly agitated. She looked stressed and pale.

"You aren't well," Adam observed. "Let me walk you home."

"No." May was adamant. She tugged her scarf up around her ears. "No, I have to go. Leave me alone."

She walked six or seven steps before stumbling and nearly falling. Adam moved swiftly to assist her.

"What's wrong?" he asked, so quietly that May felt tears prickling the corners of her eyes.

"It's Elle," she stammered. "Some person came to our flat asking about money. Lots of money, in our accounts. I'm afraid, I'm afraid she's gone and done something _stupid_ to get it. I can't get through to her. I've been trying all morning but her phone keeps ringing out."

She broke down completely at this point. "And I can't help thinking, what if she got the money illegally? What if whoever she took it from found her? Maybe she's hurt. Maybe she's dead! It's my stupid fault!"

She breathed heavily into Adam's shoulder, trying not to cry. He patted her back hesitantly.

"I'm sure it'll she'll be fine," he said. "She's probably forgotten her phone. It'll turn out to be a huge misunderstanding."

He waited until May was drawing deep shuddering breaths and calming down before he spoke again.

"Why would something like that be your fault?" he asked.

"We're in debt," she said. "Elle could have gotten the money to try pay it off."

Half a million pounds worth of debt? Adam wondered. Not likely. The background checks would have picked it up immediately.

"How much in debt?" he asked tentatively.

May swallowed. "Several hundred thousand euro. I don't know how much exactly."

"How?" he asked, astounded. She wasn't lying, he was pretty sure of it.

May wiped her eyes and looked up at him. "My brother," she said simply. "When Elle left him for me he said she had to pay him money or he'd come after us. I convinced her not to go to the police. You've no idea what my brother is capable of. I thought we'd be safe when we left Ireland..."

"But?"

"But... Elle started getting letters about six months ago. She wouldn't let me read them. I thought they might be from _him_, and now I'm sure of it. She wouldn't do anything illegal unless she had to."

May looked at him pleadingly.

"You believe me don't you?"

Adam considered her story.

"Yes," he said. "I believe you."

He really meant it.

May brushed a lock of hair off her face and gave him a watery smile.

"Thank you. And I'm sorry I can't have lunch. I need to go home and try to get through to Elle again."

"Hey that's ok. We can have lunch some other time maybe."

May smiled again, a less watery one this time.

"Good. Fine. I'd better go."

She let go of his coat.

"Don't worry," Adam reassured her. "I'm sure it'll turn out all right. Here, at least let me walk you home, it's on the way back to my office."

Nodding her consent, she turned and they walked silently from the playground. Adam racked his brains to think of some way to get into her apartment without arousing suspicion or fear. Nothing sprung immediately to mind. But when they reached the apartment block May's hands were shaking and she had difficulty getting her keys out of her bag to unlock the door. Adam saw his opportunity.

"Let me," he said, prying the keys gently from her hand and unlocking the door, stepping forward into the building and holding the door open for her. "Are you sure you're ok?"

"Yes, thanks, bye now." May replied distractedly, stepping into the building. She moved to close the door behind her.

"Bye," Adam replied, keeping the keys in his hand. He waited until she had closed the door before he turned and took a few steps down the road. Feigning surprise at seeing the keys in his hand (for the benefit of any surveillance cameras), he turned back and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He knocked again, waited, and then unlocked the door and went in.

"May?" he called up the stairs. "May? Peter Ellis here. Are you there?"

He walked up the stairs, and found her outside her apartment door on the first floor, fumbling through her bag.

"Are you looking for these?" he asked, holding out the keys.

"Oh thank god," she said, gratefully. "Of course, you opened the door. I _haven't_ lost them. Thanks."

She brushed some hair out of her eyes, and took the keys from Adam.

"Would you like some tea?" she offered suddenly.

"I really ought to..." Adam glanced at his watch arm. "Damn, no watch," he sighed. "Well... then yes, please tea would be great. Then I ought to head back to the office."

May let them in, dropped her bag on the couch and picked up the phone to check for messages as she walked over to the kettle.

"Sit down if you like," she said, noticing Adam hanging around awkwardly in the door frame and gesturing to him to sit the couch. Adam sat, taking in his surroundings. The apartment was even pokier than it looked on CCTV, and the couch was decidedly lumpy. Pictures of Sean hung here and there, pictures of Sean with his mum, with May and pictures of him on his own, but no pictures of May and Elle.

The kettle boiled. May sighed and dropped the phone back onto its cradle. She made two mugs of tea.

"Sorry we don't have any biscuits," she said. "Do you take milk? I think there's enough left in the fridge for one cup."

"No, black tea's fine for me," Adam smiled. May sat down opposite him.

"It's not like her not to phone," she said, staring into her tea-cup. "I don't know whether to call the police or not."

"Well, how long has she been gone?" Adam asked.

"I don't know, she wasn't here when I woke up. She was meant to stay at home today with me and Sean but she must have gone out early."

"Call the police if you think you should," Adam said. "But have you tried looking for her yourself yet? Did you check your friends' houses?"

"I've called around," May said. "But no-one has seen her today. Maybe...Maybe she's with... someone else." She looked utterly despondent at this thought. "Maybe that's why she's been acting odd lately."

She stared into her tea.

"What would you do," she asked suddenly. "If you thought your wife was cheating on you?"

Adam looked down. "My wife is dead," he said hesitantly.

A look of horror washed over May's face. "I had no idea, I'm so sorry!" Her eyes flickered over his ring finger; Adam instinctively covered the gold band on it with his other hand. They sat in silence for a while.

"What makes you think she's cheating on you?" Adam asked eventually.

Relieved that Adam had broken the awkward silence first, May set down her mug and thought for a moment.

"She's been really off with me lately. She's short-tempered and won't talk when I ask her why. And a couple of months ago she started going out at odd hours of the night and stuff. And those letters started arriving around the same time."

May frowned. "My brother's due out of jail soon, and I'm sure that was his writing on the envelopes. Maybe it's him she's been seeing. But then, why would she need the money? It doesn't make any sense!"

Adam sat forward. "Did she keep the letters?" he asked.

"I think she did," May said. "In her safety-box."

"Is that here?" Adam asked.

"I think so..." May replied, then caught on. "Oh!"

She got up and pulled a metal box out from under the fridge. It had a combination lock on it, 6-digits.

"I don't know the code," May said.

"Her birthday?" Adam suggested.

May twirled the dials.

"Nope," she said. Adam hadn't really expected it to be that easy.

"Your birthday?" he asked.

Again, no. Nor was it Sean's birthday.

"What other dates are important?" he asked.

May furrowed her brow. Then, slowly she twisted the dials and the lock clicked open.

She blinked. "I didn't think she'd remember," she said quietly. "The day we met."

Adam arched his eyebrows. He wasn't sure if it was sweet, or just corny that Gabrielle would pick such a date. It certainly seemed a little out of character. Nevertheless, it was astounding luck that they had gotten the right combination on the fourth attempt, as there were literally a billion different combinations on a 6-digit lock.

May opened the box and pulled out a neat pile of letters.

"Seven over, three down," she read aloud, puzzled. "Eleven over, three down. The whole letter goes on like that. Six over, thirteen down, seven over, nine down...It's signed 'O.T'"

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"They aren't from my brother, they're from Oona!"

"Doesn't she live upstairs?" Adam asked puzzled. "Why on earth was she writing to Elle?"

0-0-0

Gabrielle hurried along the pavement. A woman sitting on a nearby bench stubbed out her cigarette and pocketed the butt before rising and dropping a paper fast-food bag into a nearby bin. She strolled off. Gabrielle waited a moment before picking the package out of the bin.

"This is Alpha Two. I've found Lovebird One, she's picked up a package," one of the surveillance team looking for her reported into his sleeve. Harry picked up the other end of the line.

"Excellent. This is Harry Pearse. Tail her but don't get too close until the rest of the team arrives. They're on their way. Did you see who dropped the package?"

"Yes. Subject unfamiliar female. Brunette wearing a brown knee-length jacket and boots. Mid to late forties. Smoker. Five foot six approx, slender." Alpha Two said.

"Leave her. Tail the Lovebird."

"Yes sir. Lovebird One headed towards my position. She's opening package."

"Can you see what's in it?"

Alpha Two watched closely.

"A gun," he stated quietly. Harry sighed.

Gabrielle stared in shock at the gun, hastily dropped it back into the paper bag and started to run through the crowd.

"Permission to take her out?" Alpha Two asked.

"Don't shoot her, we still need her. Can you bring her in quietly?"

"I think so."

Alpha two waited until Gabrielle rounded the corner before leaping on her. She never saw him coming; she was too busy focussing on getting out of there as quick as she could.

0-0-0

"Any sign of those phone calls translations yet Ruth?" Harry asked her over the phone.

"No. I'm still on my way to the Irish Studies professor." Even over the phone he could tell she was distracted. He could picture her biting her bottom lip absent-mindedly. "Harry, I haven't been able to find out anything more about the people we're dealing with," she said. "They have no name, no known structure and have issued no warnings. It's almost like they don't exist."

It was very peculiar, Harry thought, making a mental note of it. After hanging up, he checked his watch. It was only just past two o'clock. Harry had the feeling it was going to be a very long day.

AN: Final part finally finished. I don't know if you'll like it, but I've postponed uploading it long enough I think. It isn't likely ever to make much more sense that it does at the moment!


	5. Part 5

**Part 5**

**"Sean will be looked after."**

0-0-0

"I don't know what you're talking about," Deborah sighed for the umpteenth time. "So I wrote a few angry letters to a few newspapers. That doesn't constitute a criminal offence. I want to know why I'm being held here. Who are you and why haven't I got a lawyer?"

"You don't have a lawyer because you haven't been arrested," Zaf explained patiently. "You are helping us with our enquiries, therefore you are not entitled to a lawyer. I, as I already told you, am Zach. Tell me about the magazine drop-offs."

"Well Zach, as I alreadytold _you_, I don't know what you're talking about. And if I haven't been arrested then I can stop 'helping' you and go, can't I?"

She stood up. "I can walk through that door and I'm free, amn't I?"

"You can try walk through that door if you like," Zaf said mildly. "You won't get very far because it's locked."

Deborah tilted her head to the side, proven correct. "So, in other words, I'm under arrest," she concluded. "I want a lawyer, now."

"Very well," Zaf said, standing to leave. "We'll send in your legal aide once he arrives."

Once outside he called Bob King.

"Bob, you're needed as a lawyer in Thames House. Can you be here in ten minutes?"

0-0-0

Gabrielle sat in the chilly white room staring at the opposite wall. She'd been there nearly an hour and hadn't even moved. Adam decided it was probably time to start. He walked in and sat heavily in the chair opposite her. She studied him with dislike.

"Who are you?" she asked.

"Peter Ellis," he said. "I'm a police officer, and I'm here to ask you what you and your partner May are doing holding half a million pounds in your bank accounts."

Gabrielle's jaw dropped. "Half a million pounds?" she mouthed. Then she cleared her throat and said: "There must be some mistake, I don't have half a million pounds."

Adam dropped her bank statements onto the table in front of him. "What are these then?"

Gabrielle leaned forward to look at them.

"This isn't mine," she said flatly. "I've never seen these before."

Adam raised a sceptical eyebrow.

"Ms. Sullivan tells us otherwise I'm afraid," he said slyly. "She says you got the money to pay off a debt to her brother, your ex-husband."

Gabrielle looked at him sharply.

"May doesn't know anything, leave her alone."

"Ah," said Adam. "So there is something to know after all. Let's talk about that shall we? Where did the money come from?"

"I don't know anything about the money," Gabrielle said stonily, glaring back down at the statements. "It isn't mine."

-0-0-0-

Zaf rubbed one of his eyes. When Bob had arrived, Deborah had recognised him as Jo's pretend boyfriend. Apparently, instead of going straight back to the saloon after dropping Jo and Sean to the doctor, she'd hung about in the car-park, to see 'Alf' for herself. She now refused to talk to either of them. Consequently, all they had managed to pry from her was one short sentence about why she had gone to visit 'Joss' at her apartment the previous night.

"I was checking up on her to make sure she was ok, she got a nasty bump on the head," was all she would say on the matter. She sat silent and upright, staring defiantly into Zaf's face and no amount of coaxing, wheedling, yelling or otherwise could convince her to talk.

0-0-0

Adam had gleaned nothing in five hours from Gabrielle. He had tried very, very hard but she swore she didn't know about the money. She didn't know about the gun. She didn't know anything about the letters May had unlocked for Adam, even when they were waved under her nose. In short, she completely clammed up, as Harry observed from where he was concealed behind a one-way window.

"I first met May by accident in the park, you know," Adam was saying. "We had lunch together a few days ago, and I wrote up a CV for her."

Gabrielle raised an eyebrow, but showed no other sign of surprise.

"I was with her earlier in your apartment. She was very upset when she thought you were missing. She also thought you were cheating on her. Why would she think that, do you think?"

"How should I know?" Gabrielle replied haughtily. "May has a very active imagination sometimes."

"She thought her brother was writing to you, you know. She thought you might be getting back with him when he got out of jail. Why was he in jail?"

Gabrielle sighed and rolled her eyes.

"Can't you find out for yourself?"

Adam pressed the point.

"We couldn't find any record of him in any prison. Where was he imprisoned?"

His only response was a stony glare.

"Is it true he was asking for money from you?"

Still, no response. Adam sighed.

Harry had just had a call from Ruth. She'd been working through Gabrielle's phone-calls and had found nothing to incriminate anybody, and no mention of any organisation or plot. With Juliet breathing down his neck every half hour, at this point it was time for a change of tactic if they were to find out what was going on. Adam wouldn't approve of what he was about to do though; he'd have to be distracted.

Harry called Zaf on his mobile.

"Zaf is Bob with you? Excellent, send him in here would you? And be ready to swap with Adam, go eat lunch or something."

"Peter," Harry called into the room over the tannoy. "Come out here a minute would you?"

Adam got up and left the room.

"Adam I want you to relieve Zaf," Harry said. "He hasn't been getting anything out of Deborah."

His tone brokered no argument. Adam nodded and left. Bob arrived in the booth, and Harry dispatched him to pick up May.

"I believe she already knows you. Tell her that Jo found Gabrielle unconscious somewhere, and that you're bringing her to the hospital to see her. I want you back here in ten minutes."

Harry checked to make sure Adam was talking to Deborah and watched his efforts for a few minutes. If they couldn't get Gabrielle to talk soon, they'd have to focus their attentions on Deborah instead, he mused.

Five minutes later, Bob called to say that they were on their way. Harry organised for a guard to be waiting outside, to make sure May couldn't get away. Once she was secured and on the premises, he strolled into Gabrielle's room.

"This way please," he said, pulling the chair from under her so she had to stand up.

He led her into another interrogation chamber – a small, windowless but brightly lit grey room divided in two by a glass partition. Her half of the chamber was empty, but there was a chair on the other side of the partition.

Harry stepped into the room behind her. "Can you guess who's going to be sitting in that chair if you don't tell us the truth about the money?" he asked.

"I told the other guy, I don't know what you're talking about. I don't know anything about any money," she said, abhorrence wrought in every syllable of her voice.

"Wrong answer," Harry told her. "Gentlemen, bring our guest in."

Bob, who was waiting in the booth, led a bewildered and terrified May into the other side of the chamber. May ran over to the partition and pressed her hands to the glass.

"Elle!"

"May?" Gabrielle walked over to her side of the glass.

"Elle, are you ok, where were you? Alf told me you were in hospital!"

"Clearly not," Elle said dryly. "I wondered how they lured you here."

"Elle," May said, looking around nervously. "The revenue man came to our house asking about money. I said there was a mistake because we hadn't got any, but he showed me all these documents saying we have half a million pounds. And I read those letters you've been getting. Why was Oona writing to you?"

Gabrielle didn't respond. She was suddenly frozen to the glass.

May pressed herself closer to the partition.

"What did you do Gabrielle?" she whispered, terrified. "What did you do to get the money? Is that why we're here?"

Gabrielle went pasty-white. "Where's Sean?" she asked hoarsely.

"He's fine," May said, confused. "I left him next-door with Denise when I left."

Gabrielle slowly sank down onto the hard floor. She hugged her knees and rocked back and forth on the ground.

"You left him with Denise?" she asked, her voice barely audible. "Oh God."

"Enough of this," Harry said. He didn't like what he was about to do, but saw no other way to get Gabrielle to talk. "Bob, get the chargers out."

May called out to Gabrielle as Bob wrestled her into the chair, but Gabrielle continued to hug her knees on the floor, rocking to and fro.

"Tell us what you're going to do with the money," Harry said to Gabrielle.

She stayed quiet, but seemed to have awoken from her reverie.

"I don't know anything about the money," she said after a pause.

"Bob," Harry said. Bob pressed the chargers onto May's fingertips and flicked a switch. May's high-pitched screech of pain reverberated around the chamber. Gabrielle quivered and blocked her ears.

"Tell me about the money," Harry repeated.

"I don't _know_ anything about the money."

More shrieks from May. Gabrielle curled up tighter. Her rocking became more pronounced.

"The money Gabrielle. Tell me about it."

Gabrielle hid her head between her knees, trying to drown out May's continuing screams.

"Tell me Gabrielle!"

Gabrielle looked up at him, shaking her head.

"I can't," she yelled, shuddering all over.

"What did you say?" Harry raised a hand to stop May's cries.

0-0-0

Zaf brought his sandwich into the booth overlooking the interrogation booth where Harry was questioning Gabrielle. He sat down on a swivel chair and spun around a few times, chewing his sandwich. Suddenly, he heard blood-curdling cries emanating from the room. He promptly dropped his sandwich and spun to see what was happening. Horrified, he dashed out of the booth to get Adam.

0-0-0

Gabrielle did not repeat herself.

"Continue," Harry instructed Bob.

"No!" Gabrielle cried. She jumped to her feet. "Leave her alone!"

"Tell us about the money then."

Gabrielle pressed her shackled fists to the glass partition.

"I can't," she whispered. May's screams resumed.

"Stop it!" Gabrielle shrieked. "Leave her alone!"

"Stop it!" she banged the glass. "Stop it! Please, please stop it!"

She threw herself against the partition with a dull thunk. She tried again. Thunk. Thunk. Thunk. Realising the division wasn't going to give way she slid down it, banging her fist in frustration.

"Tell us about the money," Harry said reasonably. "And we'll stop."

"I can't," Gabrielle growled bitterly. "They'll kill Sean."

Harry signalled to Bob to stop. May's eyes rolled in her head and she slumped back on her chair.

"Who are _they_?" Harry inquired.

"I c-can't. I can't tell you. They'll kill Sean. They said they would if I ever said anything. But I'm being set up. _We're_ being set up."

"Wake May up," Harry directed Bob. He needed more and evidently this method was working.

"She's unconscious," Bob informed him after a second.

"Give her a shot then."

Bob pulled a small syringe from his box. Gabrielle looked horrified.

"You can't give her that! She has a bad heart. You could kill her!"

"Then tell us who _they_ are."

"They'll kill Sean if I do!" Gabrielle yelled.

"We'll kill May if you don't."

Gabrielle swayed, banging her head against the glass.

"I can't. You _bastard_, I can't. Look what you've done to her," she croaked. "Look what you've done!"

Harry looked. He didn't mean to but his eyes flickered over May before he could stop them. Unconscious, her head hung awkwardly over the back of the chair. She looked dead.

"...-n there Adam" it was Zaf, speaking out in the booth. Harry could hear hi through his head phone and swore under his breath. Seconds later Adam stormed into May's side of the chamber.

He wrenched off Bob's earphones and knocked him to the floor, taking his keys and undoing May's handcuffs. Adam caught May before she slid off the chair. He lowered her the rest of the way, checked her breathing and put her in the recovery position. Then, he glared up at Harry and left the room.

Realising that he had seconds until arrived in the other half of the chamber, Harry grabbed Gabrielle's arms before she could attempt to lash out at him and crouched down on the floor beside her.

"Listen to me carefully," he said levelly in her ear. "We are not going to let whoever they are hurt your son. Just tell us who they are and what they're doing and we'll help you get Sean back."

Gabrielle turned hateful eyes to her interrogator. She spat on his face. He was expecting it and didn't let go of her arms.

"I think you should consider it again," he said mildly, wiping his cheek with his shoulder. "Because you can agree to co-operate or you can take the chance of May's heart bursting under the strain of that injection."

Gabrielle shot an anxious look at May. She turned back to face Harry. "If I tell you what I know, you'll get May a doctor?"

"Yes, of course."

"How do I know where she's going?" Gabrielle asked warily. "You could be taking her away to hurt her more."

"You'll have to trust me," Harry said.

"Trust you!" Her face contorted in disgust. "I haven't much reason to trust _you_ do I?"

Adam entered the room. "If you can't trust him, trust me," Adam said. "I'll make sure May gets her doctors."

"And you'll help me get Sean back?" she asked.

"Yes."

Gabrielle looked from Harry to Adam and back to Harry.

"I'll talk to him," she said to Harry. "But not to you."

She took a deep, shuddering breath and addressed Adam. "Get May her doctor. Then I'll tell you what I've been doing."

0-0-0

May stirred. Gabrielle, who had been resting her head on her arms with her eyes closed, sat bolt upright. May stirred again, dragging herself out of her drug-induced slumber. Slowly she opened her eyes, blinking in the light of the dying sun streaming though her window. Gabrielle hastily closed the blinds, and then sat back down. She waited until May appeared to have taken in her surroundings before speaking.

"Hey," she whispered. "How are you feeling?"

"Groggy," May said blearily. "

"We're in hospital," Gabrielle told her.

"I noticed," May replied. "There's something generic about hospital décor."

Gabrielle smiled and wrinkled her nose. "No, it's the smell of disinfectant that gives it away," she joked. May smiled back, though it hadn't been a particularly funny joke.

"What happened?" she asked Gabrielle.

"You don't remember?" Gabrielle asked apprehensively.

"I remember some of it. I remember having electric pins stuck under my fingernails," May said slowly. "But I don't remember much else."

Gabrielle fidgeted with the bed sheet between her fingers.

"They made me choose between you and Sean."

May swallowed. "Who did you choose?" she asked, fearing the worst.

Gabrielle sighed and carefully took May's closest hand between her own.

"Both of you. I can't live without either of you. I told them everything I knew, all about the letters and Oona and where the money may have come from. They thought we were part of some gay liberation front, but I put them right on that. I told them we were being set-up, for some reason."

She smiled weakly. "May listen, I haven't been very honest with you lately, and I have a lot to tell you but not now. You have to get better first."

May struggled up onto one elbow.

"I'm fine. Tell me now."

"No," Gabrielle said gently but firmly, pushing May back into her pillows. "I'll tell you tomorrow. I have to go now, you need to stay here and get some more rest."

May protested but Gabrielle, not taking no for an answer, pushed her back into the pillow again and tucked the bed-clothes in around her legs. May gave in. She tried to fold her arms crossly, but found it hurt her fingers too much so she settled for a cross face instead.

"You'd better remember to," she said. "I want an explanation."

Gabrielle stood to leave. Hesitating for a moment, she leaned over and kissed May softly.

"And you will have one when I get back. I love you, you know," she said quietly.

"See you later," May replied with a curt nod. She waited until Gabrielle had left the room before lying back into her pillow and smiling blissfully.

0-0-0

"Are you ready?" Adam asked Gabrielle outside the ward.

Gabrielle looked back over her shoulder at May once, then nodded. "Yes. Let's go."

0-0-0

Denise opened the door to Gabrielle when she arrived.

"Elle!" she said cheerfully. "I was beginning to think you weren't coming back for Sean. Come in, they're playing computer games."

Gabrielle smiled and stepped tentatively into Denise's flat.

"Where is he?" she asked casually.

"They're in Cathal's bedroom. Go on through, I'll be in in a minute."

Gabrielle walked into the boy's bedroom. Sean and Cathal, Denise's son, were playing on Cathal's computer under the watchful eyes of Oona Tóibín.

"Ah Gabrielle," Oona smiled brightly. "Good to see you, why are you here?"

"To collect Sean," Gabrielle replied warily.

"Did you pick up that package for me?"

"Yes."

"Was there any trouble?"

"No." She had inside her coat the gun that she'd picked up earlier. She handed it to Oona.

Oona studied it carefully.

"Excellent, to business so," Oona said, smiling. "Denise!" she called suddenly out to the kitchen. Denise hurried into the room.

"Yes?"

"Denise, take Cathal out of the room will you?"

Denise didn't ask why, merely dragged her son squealing away from his computer. Sean continued to play alone, too busy fighting some monster or other on screen to worry about the loss of his playmate.

"How long have we known each other?" Oona asked Gabrielle. "Ten years now is it? I'd think we know each other pretty well, all things considered. But we know you were picked up by the Spooks on this one, we saw you being taken almost as soon as you got the gun. I'm sorry you felt the need to lie to me Gabrielle."

Gabrielle's eyes flickered over her son.

"Don't worry," Oona said. "Sean will be looked after."

Oona raised the gun in her hand and checked the chambers to see if they were empty. They were. She drew a number of rounds out of her pocket, loaded the gun, and screwed a silencer onto the top of it. Gabrielle itched to lick the sweat off her upper lip. Oona noticed.

"Nervous?" she asked.

Gabrielle shook her head a little.

"Good," Oona smiled encouragingly. She cocked the gun and pointed it at Gabrielle.

"You must have led them here to me Gabrielle. How else could you have escaped? You know what we do to traitors don't you?"

She swung her gun to point at Sean.

Gabrielle screeched and launched herself at Oona. They both crashed into the wall. But Oona was much stronger, and within seconds she had Gabrielle pinned to the floor. Gabrielle could feel the barrel of the gun pressing into the back of her head.

"Not Sean," she begged. "Not in front of him."

Oona snorted mirthlessly. "He's next dear," she said. And pulled the trigger.

0-0-0

By the time Adam and his team burst in the door seconds later it was already too late. The back-up had taken down Oona immediately, but she'd already fired and Gabrielle was dead. Adam sank to his knees beside Gabrielle's body.

A stray bullet had injured the boy when they'd stormed into the room. Adam was vaguely aware of the boy's screams as one of his team carried him out of the room.

It had happened so fast.

He'd have to tell May. How could he do that? Hello May, I'm afraid I have some bad news. Your life will never be the same as it was. Elle is dead.

0-0-0

**Conclusion...**

On review of the information Gabrielle provided and the transcripts of her telephone conversations (which turned out to be clean), it appeared there was no subversive group and no plot to kill anyone, nor had there ever been. Gabrielle claimed to have been working on the behalf of the Irish Secret Service for a year in her capacity as a hairdresser. Jo had been right about Gabrielle getting messages in the magazines, they had been wrong about Deborah being involved. Oona, according to Gabrielle, had been the mastermind of operations. She'd sent Gabrielle addresses in coded notes (corresponding to crossword puzzle letters) which Gabrielle deciphered and visited to pick up packages. Gabrielle gave Adam all the codenames she knew of Irish agents working in London, though would not give details of their operations. Her information was basically useless after her death though, and it had led to no arrests.

The ISS, of course, denied any knowledge of the set-up. They disassociated themselves entirely from the case, claiming they knew nothing of Oona, and that all the so-called agents in the hair salon were actually terrorists acting on the behalf of a militant republican splinter group who were testing their internal security when they set up Gabrielle and May by planting half a million pounds on them. It was terrible that Gabrielle and May had found themselves mixed up in a terrorist's plans, but tragically these things happened. Incidentally, they didn't know who tipped off (or rather, misinformed) Juliet.

Unlikely as the ISS's story seemed, there was little evidence to the contrary now that Gabrielle was dead. When they discussed it in the Grid afterwards, Zaf was of the belief that Gabrielle had been an Irish agent who knew too much, and the ISS decided to take her out. Ruth was more inclined to believe Gabrielle had simply gotten herself muddled up in a bad situation, with no way out. Jo thought maybe they were both right, while Adam refused to offer an opinion. He didn't have one, he thought the whole state of affairs had been a haberdashery of falsehoods from start to finish, and merely regretted how it ended.

**What happened next...**

Cleared of suspicion, Deborah was let go with a considerable sum of money to hush up her unlawful confinement. She moved to California. Oona's remains were returned to her family and buried in Ireland. Denise (May and Elle's neighbour) and her son Cathal disappeared immediately, not resurfacing for many weeks until they were spotted boarding a ferry in Scotland. Most of Gabrielle's other customers made themselves scarce as well.

May and Sean moved apartment. In the old apartment, it had hurt to think, hurt to cry, even hurt to breathe when every second of every day May was consciously aware that Elle was gone forever. She struggled on for months, for Sean's sake. The pills a doctor prescribed helped, but only a little. She couldn't face getting a job; she could barely heave herself out of bed in the mornings. One day, she took too many pills and was rushed to hospital. It was an accident, she told them. She just wanted to stop the pain for a while. They let her go a few days later but barely a week passed before she was re-admitted with a major heart attack. She was 'lucky to survive,' they told her. Sean was placed in care while May recuperated. It was then that Adam paid her a visit.

He hadn't seen her since he'd had to break the news of Elle's death to her. "Peter?" she'd said as he entered the room, a confused half smile flitting across her face. It was understandable, after all why would he be there? He'd told her Elle was dead as gently as he could. He'd tried to explain everything to her, but she hadn't seemed to hear anything he was saying. As the news sank in, she let out a long, harsh wail of anguish. In an instant, her life had been changed irrevocably. She'd started thrashing about. Medical personnel had dashed into the room, asked him to leave and tried to restrain her.

Now she was lying, as though lifeless, propped up on a stack of pillows in Casualty. She didn't even register his presence as he sat down beside her. Her face was sunken and gaunt; she was barely recognisable as the woman he'd met last October.

"I thought this might interest you," he said, placing an envelope by her hand.

Her eyes moved to it momentarily, then with monumental effort she turned her head away from him.

"It's from Brightvale College, not far from where you live now," Adam continued, as though nothing had happened. "I thought I might read it to you."

He picked up the envelope and slit it open. He was fairly certain of what it was going to say, having sent May's plays and an assortment of other works they found in her apartment to the college with her application (and a few forged references).

"Dear Ms. Sullivan," he began.

"We here at Brightvale college are pleased to offer you an unconditional place on our English and Drama Studies course commencing the third of September 2006. Additionally, we are in the position to offer you a small study stipend for the duration of your course. The stipend is awarded almost every year to an applicant of outstanding undiscovered talent, and this year will be awarded to you, should you accept your place at Brightvale. Please let us know of your decision as soon as possible. We look forward to hearing from you and hope to meet you soon.

Yours faithfully,

Dr. George Pickwithton (Ph.d).

Chairman Brightvale College Admissions Board."

May did not respond. Once he'd finished and stuffed the letter back into its envelope she closed her eyes again. Regardless, he said what he came to say.

"My employer has offered to pay your tuition fees for college. While we know we cannot compensate you for the loss of Gabrielle, we hope that you will accept our help where we can offer it, and that we can help you build a better life for you and Sean."

May steadfastly ignored him. Disheartened, he got up to leave. At the door he turned to look back at May once more. She was gazing at the opposite wall thoughtfully.

0-0-0

0-0-0

0-0-0

0-0-0

**Epilogue**

The theatre was brimming with people, of all ages and from all walks of life. Adam, Ros, Harry, Ruth and Malcolm, who had all arrived early, were lucky enough to get seats next each other. Jo and Zaf sat several rows ahead of them nearer the stage. There was a contagious, excited buzz amongst the audience, most of whom were probably here to see some much-adored soapstar, Jacque Sack, perform on stage for the first time in ten years.

"I had no intention of ever returning to the theatre" he said in one interview conducted with him in a national magazine, "until I received a copy of _The Woman who Wouldn't_ by May Sullivan. I was enraptured by its raw emotion, bohemian undertones and frankly hilarious subtext and was not content until I had bagged the lead role... _blah, blah, blah_." Adam hadn't read the rest. He wasn't here to see Jacque Sack (though he suspected Jo and Ruth might be). He was here for May's play.

Soon, the lights dimmed and the curtains rose. Jacque Sack only had to gaze sorrowfully into the distance and the audience would sigh collectively. _The Woman who Wouldn't_ was a poignant tale of a man in love with a woman who was in love with another woman. Adam didn't find the subtext particularly hilarious, though a dark, dry humour did permeate the play and helped alleviate some of the tension. In the end, the woman who wouldn't died tragically and the woman she loved realised she'd loved the woman who wouldn't so she killed herself leaving Jacque Sack keening on the stage over the ephemeral nature and ultimate futility of life.

It was, Zaf commented later, all very deep and meaningful but unfortunately it had gone right over his head. He preferred _Gutters and Stars_. Ruth was quick to defend Jacque Sack's performance when Malcolm derided it, which earned her an arched eyebrow from Harry. Adam was very quiet.

"What did you think?" Jo asked him.

"It was superb," he said. "A little too true to life for my liking, perhaps."

Jo nodded. "So, a few of us are heading down the George," she said. "Join us?"

"Eh, no not right now, thanks Jo," Adam said. He'd caught sight of very familiar strawberry-blonde hair through the crowds. "You go ahead, and I'll join you later. I'm just going to go congratulate the playwright. Won't be a minute..."


End file.
